Cars: Most Wanted
by randomloser
Summary: A retelling of Need for Speed: Most Wanted (2005), but in the Cars universe. A tribute to NFS. (CELEBRATING 25 YEARS OF NFS!)
1. Pilot Chapter

Racing. It was all he ever did. It was all he ever thought about. In fact, his first word spoken was "Speed." Ever since then, even as a little car, his parents valiantly fought to keep him out of trouble; out of the streets. Though, it was all to no avail. The streets were his home. Not his second, or third, but his_ first_ home. In essence, his soul was born on pavement. He would eat, sleep, and breathe asphalt. The smell of burnt rubber was what woke him up from his sleep, instead of whatever would be cooked for breakfast. Street racing _was_ his breakfast. The exhilarating feeling of being propelled by nitrous oxide, was a feeling that he craved every minute of the day. He truly had a need for speed.

Ryan Cooper was his name. A name that had grown to be feared throughout wherever he traveled. He may not have been the fastest car, but his skills always gave him the edge against cars that had a plethora of more horsepower than he did. He was born on a BMW chassis, and had grown up to be a nimble M3 GTR. Decked out with sweeping blue stripes that covered his silver body, Ryan's silhouette was unmistakable. Cars either respected his street cred, or hated him because of his accomplishments.

Ryan was born in a city called Palmont, and learned street racing there. Something happened, that forced Ryan to leave the city, and left him to continue building his reputation elsewhere. From then, Ryan went to Olympic City, where he took on the King of the Underground, Eddie. Then he moved to Bayview, and just like before, he eventually had the entire city under his wheel. Even after so much victory, Ryan stayed humble. He knew there was always some other place that had racers who would be more of a challenge. And he _loved_ a challenge. He left Bayview and decided to take off for a couple of months. Maybe visit a beach, or go camping in the mountains, or whatever. A small break from action was something he knew he needed. But in his quest for a short rest, he stumbled across a city that would prove to be more difficult than anything he ever imagined. This is where the legend of the Most Wanted starts.

* * *

Ryan had two options. Either stay on the highway he was currently cruising on, or take the next exit to a city called "Rockport." He had heard of Rockport when he was growing up in Palmont. The two cities were close to each other, but he never bothered to pay Rockport a visit. _"Hmmm. Why not?"_ He thought to himself. _"I could get a nice hotel, relax for a couple of days, and get back on the road."_ He changed lanes and took the exit. As he made it further into the city limits of Rockport, he noticed a significant difference in atmosphere. Grey clouds infested the sky, which was already meek in color to begin with. The roads were heavily cracked, tarnished from countless street races, and clearly hadn't been repaired for quite some time. The deeper he got, the more industrial he noticed the city was. Everything gave off a rugged and hardcore appearance.

Ryan reasoned to himself that crime was probably a legitimate problem here. He was having thoughts about turning around to get back on the highway, until a car pulled up beside him. She was a beautiful Mazda RX-8. Her sexy, vibrant red contrasted with the dull color of the environment around him. Ryan could tell by her body mods that she was no ordinary car. She had a carbon fiber hood and spoiler, and white tribal tattoos that complimented the sides of her body. She looked toward her right at Ryan and gave him a mischievous look. He had seen that look far too much. Even though he personally vowed to take a break from street racing, nothing could stop his itch for excitement.

Ryan returned the Mazda's look and the two began increasing their miles per hour well beyond the speed limit. Everything became a blur as the two cars turned the public streets into their own playground. She took the lead and Ryan followed her through an industrial site, smashing boxes and signs as they raced through the area. _"Damn. She's quick."_ The smooth whine of her rotary engine put Ryan in both a state of bliss, and excitement. Eventually, the two made it back into the city, but this time, in the downtown area, and both cars came to a stop at a red-light. Ryan began to congratulate the mysterious woman on her victory

"Nice race. That was some pretty cool-"

"Gotta go." The Mazda quickly interrupted him and sped off.

Ryan looked ahead and saw exactly why she left the scene so quick. Cops. _"Oh no. This is one of THOSE cities."_ Ryan groaned to himself. Law enforcement was something that he was unfamiliar with. Both Olympic City and Bayview had no cops to pester street racers. And Palmont's police department had just been established before Ryan left. In fact, it was the cops that ruined Ryan's last street race in Palmont, and forced him to move. Ryan hadn't had much experience with the "protectors" and "servers," but the experience he did have, he wasn't quite fond of.

An officer skidded to a stop right in front of Ryan. He was a black Chevrolet C6 Corvette with a Rockport Police Department badge on each of his doors. He had a white "X" design on his hood and multiple faces that were marked over with a red X on his fender. Ryan assumed that those crossed out faces were of criminals that the officer must've terminated, and were only on his body for intimidation purposes. The officer straightened himself and slowly lifted up the sunglasses that previously shielded his eyes. He began to speak in his smooth and witty voice.

"Oh man," He chuckled. "Boy, did you pick the wrong street to run on." The officer slowly circled around Ryan, eyeing him up and down. He noticed the wide variety of body modifications that were equipped to the BMW, which he had suspicions of being illegal. "You are one _nice_ car. Custom spoiler, side exhaust, racing tires, body kit? Is this all for show, or is there something more I should know about?"

Ryan remained silent, unsure of what to say or do to get him out of his situation that was going south very quickly. The officer cleared his throat and continued.

"Let me tell you what's about to happen. I'm gonna take you to the station. We're gonna strip you down, analyze you, and test you to make sure you're street legal. Let me fill you in on a little secret. Street racing in_ my_ city is over. I've got a little surprise for you all that's gonna tear y'all apart from the _inside out_. Now put yourself in park, and shut down your engine." The officer began preparing his wheel-clamps, but was interrupted by a call from his communicator.

_"I've got units pursuing multiple speeding vehicles that are aggressively evading custody. Units in the immediate area are to respond and offer assistance to pursuing officers. Over." _The sergeant looked to the side, disappointed he would have to let Ryan go to provide backup. He gave one last look at Ryan before he began to leave.

"Next time… you won't be so lucky…" He spit in Ryan's direction, and sped off to assist his comrades. Ryan sped off as well, shaking off the dangerous encounter from his chassis.

Two days later…

Ryan sat in his motel room, looking out at the skyscrapers in the distance. He did some research on Rockport, and learned that it was one of the most notorious cities for street racing. Cars were known to have their entire reputations wiped out by the street racing scene here. Whether it was from dirty racing, or unbelievably fast cars, no one's career was truly safe. To make matters even worse, the Rockport Police Department was known to be the most aggressive enforcement division in the entire country. They had multiple tools at their disposal such as: Helicopters, Rhynos, and their most dangerous weapon… Sergeant Cross.

Ryan learned that Cross was the one who had almost arrested him the other day. Ryan knew he should leave the city while he still had the chance, but the "itch" was persistent. He saw Rockport and its hardcore qualities as the challenge he was looking for. _"I guess I can break my promise just this one time. What's the worst that could happen?"_

Ryan sped out of his motel, looking for racers. It wasn't long until a yellow Aston Martin DB9 with green stripes all over his body, pulled alongside Ryan.

"Yo, chump! Never seen yo face 'round here! Ready to get dusted?!"

Ryan simply smiled and revved his engine.

* * *

Ryan began reducing his speed in one of the industrial parks of Camden, which was a port town in Rockport. He beat the DB9. He beat the DB9 _senseless_. The Aston Martin pulled ahead of Ryan and stopped as he came across a group of more street racers. Ryan stopped next to the DB9, and shut his engine off, giving it a little rest after whooping his opponent. A black '05 Mustang GT with flames, red window tint, and white initials that spelled "RZ," came up to question the yellow car.

"_What_, did I tell you, Ronnie?"

"Razor, he shattered me." Ronnie stuttered as he tried defending himself against his leader. "I-I-I couldn't-"

"Shut up." Razor commanded, with his wheel pointing directly at Ronnie. The Mustang then turned to Ryan, giving him a cold glare. "Another bolt-on wonder boy looking to get smoked." Razor said as he rolled up to the BMW.

Razor's other gang member, Bull, rolled behind him. Other cars in the area also rolled closer to see how things were going to play out. Razor and his gang were known to be people that you didn't mess with. Ronnie was the prankster of the group, who always found ways to sabotage other cars before they raced. This included trashing a racer's safehouse, slashing their tires, or slipping them some bad oil. Bull, a deep black Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren with red window tint, was a high class car who would abuse his influence and money to sabotage another racer's career. And lastly, Razor, was a car who was known to have never lost a fight, or a race either. There was something about him that just made people not want to mess with him, because they knew by the look in his eyes, they would regret it.

"Whattya say we pluck those parts off you now, and send you back to wherever you came from?" Razor asked.

"Bolt on or not, he's hot."

Cars turned toward the voice that had suddenly interrupted Razor. Ryan followed everyone else's direction and saw the red RX-8 that he had raced a couple of days ago. _"It's her…"_ He thought to himself. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but she was one of the reasons why he decided to stay. His bumper was nearly on the ground as he watched her seductively roll over to them. She rolled over close to Ryan and put her fender close to his. He nearly flipped a gear at the sudden close proximity with her.

"He's faster than anyone else here." She taunted.

Razor chuckled. "Oh you obviously don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart." He pulled up behind her, ogling her rear bumper before she turned around and continued to confront him.

"I know _you_ wouldn't stand a chance."

Razor laughed out loud this time. "I got the biggest block 'round here. I'm pushing over six hundred horses through my chassis, Mia." He got closer to her face, debating whether or not to steal a kiss from her. "Rest assured, sugar, I'll smoke _anything_ here. Even this piece of shit clunker car."

"Well where's you money to back it up?" Mia countered.

Razor gave her a look, and then looked back at Ronnie and Bull with a smirk. "How 'bout we raise the stakes here? Instead of putting money on the table, whattya say we use pink slips instead?"

Everyone grew silent, in shock of what Razor said. Pink slips were no joke when it came to street racing. When someone said those dreaded words "pink slip", it meant sudden death. It meant no turning back. It meant putting your entire career as a street racer on the line. A pink slip holds all the records to a racer's money and reputation points. If somebody lost their pink slip, it basically meant their days of street racing was over, because all respect would be lost at that point. Sure, a car may be able to bounce back from that embarrassment and work their way back up to the top, but nobody would usually have the willpower to do so.

Razor saw the look in Ryan's eyes. "What's the matter, champ? Scared of how bad imma beat that stupid grin off your face?"

Ryan finally spoke his first words to the Mustang. He wasn't one to talk much. However, when he _did_ speak, he made sure his words meant something. "Yeah, I'm scared. Scared for _you_. I would hate for you to lose all your rent money in front of these nice people."

The crowd burst out laughing. Razor smirked, even though he wasn't amused. Ryan turned to Mia, to just to see what she was thinking. Even with how quickly the stakes were raised, Mia never lost her confident grin. She was sure that Ryan would win, even though she knew nothing about him. She nodded her hood at him, mentally telling him, _"Go ahead. Smoke him."_

The two cars confirmed a meet up location, and prepared for the race that was set to take place in just a couple of hours. Ryan pulled off and headed towards his motel to begin getting himself ready. He heard the sound of a rotary engine not too far from him, and looked in his mirror to see his sight for sore eyes gaining closer to him. Mia approached the M3 GTR in the motel parking lot.

"You never did tell me your name." She said as she pulled up next to him.

"You never gave me a chance to. Especially after leaving me with that cop to deal with by myself."

She shamefully chuckled and looked down. "Yeah… sorry about that. 'Round here, you get used to doing that a lot. You're always looking in your mirror. You can never let your guard down..." She looked back up at Ryan and smiled. "...That's why I love this city."

Ryan returned the smile. "Sounds like you and me speak the same language. My name's Ryan." He reached out his right front wheel for her to shake. She returned the friendly gesture.

"I'm pretty sure you already know my name, since that jerk dropped it awhile ago."

Ryan nodded, and grew a curious look on his face. "Are you with those guys?" Based on their interaction, he could tell that Razor and Mia had a little history with each other.

"No. But everybody knows about them. They're the biggest asses in town. Razor and his gang have this dream of becoming the best racers in the world, or some stupid shit like that." She sighed, and put her fender close to his again. Ryan's body began heating up at the close proximity with this girl. She had a charm that working all too well on him. "You need to be careful with Razor. I know you can beat him, but he'll trade paint to get what he wants."

Ryan remained sure of his abilities. He never underestimated an opponent. However, he was always sure of his own capabilities as well. "After I'm done with him, my paint will be the last thing he'll want to see."

Mia grinned. "I like you."

She told him to give her his wheel, and he complied. She took a white marker and scribbled her phone number on his wheel. He reeled his wheel back and studied the numbers written on the wall of his front tire.

"Call me if you ever need anything."

She turned around and zoomed past the cars that were carrying on small conversations in the parking lot. He watched as the red RX-8 disappeared into the autumn air, not even noticing that a yellow Aston Martin had snuck his way onto the premises. Ronnie smirked as he stared at Ryan, who was lost in his own world of love like a kid in a candy shop.

"Time for payback, sucka."

* * *

Razor watched in his rearview mirror as the silver BMW pulled up beside him. Ryan's engine, even at idle, was loud enough to vibrate the surrounding area and the many cars within it. Razor continuously revved his engine to drown out his opponent. There were other racers and pedestrians surrounding the starting line, desperate for the race to start. Ryan sized up the black car next to him. _"I know I can end this dude's career. But something about him is really putting me on edge."_

Ryan raced countless other cars in his lifetime, and none of them gave off the vibe Razor did. He never stopped smiling, as if he already knew he would win. Street racers wouldn't admit it, but they never knew for _sure_ that they would win a race or not. There were far too many surprises in the world of street racing, and anything could happen at any moment. So as Razor always maintained that look on his face, Ryan knew that something was up.

"I need your pink slip." Mia's enchanting voice snapped Ryan from his thoughts.

He handed her the sheet of paper, and she gave one last smile before retreating to the sidelines with both Ryan and Razor's pink slips in her wheels. As a referee, she hoped it wouldn't be Ryan's slip that she would have to surrender to the Mustang. Razor revved his engine loudly once more, and turned to Ryan.

"First, I'm gonna take your life. Then, I'm gonna take your girl. Get ready for that."

The crowd began counting down the start of the race. "Three! Two! One! GO!" A wild flurry of smoke and the smell of burnt rubber instantly filled the air. The two cars sped off, in a desperate chase for the finish line. Razor took the lead early; his brutal torque giving him the edge after exiting out of turns. Little did he know that Ryan wasn't going as fast as he could. The BMW studied his opponent's style and movements, looking to get an idea of just what kind of racer Razor was. _"He's a little sloppy, but mostly seems to know what he's doing. Time to show him just exactly who he's messing with." _

Ryan began picking up speed; the sound of his straight-cut gears savagely slicing through the atmosphere. He began pulling in front of Razor and noticed the confident grin that was still plastered on his face. Mia's words echoed in his mind at that moment. _"...He'll trade paint to get what he wants…."_ The two cars rounded a sharp right corner, and Ryan kept his distance from Razor.

"Ha! Little wuss!" He heard Razor insult him from behind. "You think you can keep that lead forever?!"

The BMW ignored him as his speed crossed over 130mph. Lane switch after lane switch, weave after weave, and a constant flurry of nitrous was the infectious pattern that both cars followed. By each second, they got closer to the finish line… and Razor got closer to Ryan as well. _"It's about damn time…"_ Razor mused to himself; his grin growing wider.

Ryan began to feel funny. He felt light-hooded and his vision started to get blurry. He quickly swerved to the left to avoid a traffic car, but one look in his rearview mirror, and he realized that the pedestrian was never there. _"Am I seeing things?"_ He asked himself. He felt a vibration in his wheel well, and realized it was his phone. He answered his call as he continued to race. It was Mia.

"Hey, there's something wrong with your engine! You left a huge oil slick back at the start line. You have to end thwe raschem fashummr…"

"What?! Mia?!"

He called out her name as his vision began going black now, and his hearing became disoriented. Razor grinned and sped past the BMW that was slowing to a halt in the middle of the street. Ryan finally came to a stop, and all of his senses had cut out. He had broke down.

* * *

A crowd of cars surrounded Razor, who was gloating over his win. He took out the pink slip he won, and took a look at the contents. The BMW's entire life earnings were on the slip, and let's just say… it was _well_ past the hundred thousand mark. Razor grinned and turned to his two boys, Ronnie and Bull.

"Nothing can hold us back now."

Mia watched as Ryan, who was still unconscious, was picked up by a tow truck. "Thanks, Ed. Make sure he gets to the safehouse with no trouble."

"Sure thing, Mia." The tow truck said, and left for his destination.

Mia remained looking solemn in the midst of the crowd of cars that celebrated the exciting race. She felt bad for Ryan. The poor man was embarrassed in front of _so_ many cars. She was even sure that some people had recorded the race and posted it online by now. It would be almost impossible for Ryan to recover from such humiliation. Not to mention that he now had no money, and his own engine was locked up now. If there's one thing for sure, Razor _wasn't_ kidding. He had indeed took Ryan's life.

"Hey Mia." Razor called out to the sulking Mazda from among his crowd. "Sweetheart, the winner's circle is over here."

Before she could respond, everyone began breaking out in a frenzy after the word "Cops!" was shouted. Razor and his crew quickly departed from the scene. It wasn't long after Mia fled the scene as well, and began making her way back to her safehouse to check up on Ryan.

Some time later…

Ryan woke up to the sound of a familiar engine. _"Mia…?"_ He couldn't see over his hood, which was lifted up. _"What the? Why is my hood raised?"_ As he contemplated, the events that happened slowly came back to him. The race. The huge crowds of people. The humiliation. The Mustang. _"Razor…"_ Dark thoughts began to enter his mind as he pieced together the puzzle. He knew that he had lost the race before it even began. _That_ was why Razor never stopped smiling.

Ryan noticed how lightweight his front end felt. He closed his hood and looked around where he was. It was some sort of abandoned warehouse. There were computers, a sofa, a TV set, and some tools in the back that were used for customizing. Ryan then noticed something that gave him a lump in his throat. His own engine sat in a huge container of degreaser in one of the corners of the safehouse. Ryan knew he had been screwed up, but to think that that his engine was locked… it horrified him.

He then looked down and noticed he was on a makeshift medical bed. _"Someone must've took me in."_ He then thought back to the red Mazda, whom he was sure he heard just a few moments ago. His suspicions were confirmed when the large door to the safehouse opened up, and through it came his sunshine. Mia. She closed the door behind her and forced a smile onto her front bumper.

"I'm sorry for what they did to you. I shoulda never let you race him."

He shook his hood at her. "You didn't know this would happen. Don't blame yourself. It's my own fault. I knew something was off about the whole thing, but I was too stubborn to check things out."

Mia smiled again, this time a little more sincere. She went over to him and pulled out a box of Chinese food from the bag she was carrying, and pushed the food toward him. "Eat up." She said.

The BMW did as he was commanded. He wolfed down the food, and surprised himself by how hungry he was. He took another look at his engine that sat in the tub of degreaser in the corner. Mia caught his glance and proceeded to inform him about what happened.

"I had a buddy of mine come over and pull your engine out. It'll need to soak for a little while longer before you can leave the city."

"You mean before I have my rematch with Razor?"

Mia sighed. "Ryan, it's not that simple." She gently put her wheel on his fender to comfort him. "Razor is out of the question. You should just forget that all of this happened and leave."

Ryan was taken aback from what he just heard. She seriously expected him to just throw in the towel after being made a fool in front of the entire city? After losing all of his money? After his reputation being broken right before his eyes? No way.

"I'm not going anywhere until I get my rematch."

The RX-8 remained defiant and continued to try to convince Ryan that it would be better for him to just leave.

"Look, in this city, we have what is called a 'Blacklist.' It's a group of racers who are known to be the most notorious in the city by the RPD. Guess who used _your_ money to upgrade himself, so that he could make it to the top of that list?"

Ryan scoffed. "All the more reason why I deserve my revenge on him."

"You still don't get it."

Mia found an empty space on the concrete walls, and began frantically using a piece of chalk to write on the wall. After about a minute of frustrated strokes, she let the chalk drop to the floor, and reversed out of the way so that Ryan could see what was written. On the wall, Mia had made an entire list of all the racers that were on the Blacklist. It started from the number fifteen, and went all the way up to number one, which was where Razor was sitting pretty.

"If you want to take on Razor, you've got a lot of work to do. You have to work your way up the Blacklist, and take out everyone on the way. In order to even challenge one of them, you have to prove yourself worthy of their time by winning races and completing milestones."

Ryan studied the Blacklist and returned his gaze to the red car. He shrugged. "I'm down for it."

Mia found it hard to keep a condescending glare on her face. She giggled internally, and went back over to Ryan.

"I _really_ like you." She said. "You've got heart unlike anything I've ever seen. You sure you're up for this?"

Ryan nodded. "No one gets away with doing this to me."

Mia responded with a barely audible, "Okay," and began gathering her things to leave. "This place is your safehouse. You can use it to chill out when the heat from the cops is too high. I don't live too far from here, so hit me up if you ever need anything." She began heading for the exit.

"Mia…"

She turned around, not saying anything.

"...Thanks… for everything."

She flashed her trademark smile that Ryan had already began falling in love with. "I'll see you around," She casually said. She turned around and left Ryan to himself. He took a deep breath, spun around, and took another look at the list on the wall.

"Time to get started."


	2. Blacklist 15: Sonny

Ryan revved up his engine in excitement. It felt good to have his own power plant back. One of Mia's friends had helped to get the engine back inside of him, and now Ryan was ready to begin his quest for vengeance. He took another look at the list that Mia had drawn on the wall. He had much time to think about exactly what he was going to do. After this point, there would be no turning back. He would no longer be able to freely roam around foreign cities and do whatever he pleased. His freedom would be exchanged for revenge.

Once he made it onto the Blacklist, he would be a wanted criminal. Somewhere in the back of Ryan's mind, or what was left of his sanity, he questioned whether or not this was all worth it. In the end, he would get nothing but the satisfaction of beating Razor fairly. But when flashes of anger swept across his mind, Ryan knew it was something he _had_ to do for himself. The first car that Ryan had to beat was a Volkswagen Golf GTI that went by the name "Sonny." Once Ryan had enough rep, he could challenge Sonny to a race in order to take his spot on the Blacklist. Ryan kicked himself into gear, and sped out into the streets to look for some action.

* * *

Rosewood was in the northern part of Rockport, and currently where Ryan's safehouse was located. In order for him to advance to Camden and eventually Downtown Rockport, he would first have to conquer Rosewood. The layout of Rosewood was fairly simple. It was a quiet system of suburbs with a small town in its center, a university near the outskirts, and a long sweeping highway that surrounded the district. All of it was complemented by the warm shades of autumn.

Ryan made his way through the town, making mental notes to himself where some landmarks and stores were. After all, Rockport would be his new temporary home for a while. His concentration was broke when three cars zoomed past him; the force of their velocity shaking his frame. He regained his focus and looked up to see the party of cars already nearly out of sight. He could tell by their formation that they were in a heated race, and Ryan wanted a piece of the action. He spun his wheels and began working to catch up to them. By the time he caught up, the three cars passed over two red signal flares that were put onto the road, which was a makeshift finish line. The three cars caught their breath and watched as the BMW pulled up in front of them.

"You guys lookin' for a fourth set of wheels?" Ryan asked.

One car was a Mitsubishi 3000GT. The other was a '96 Chevrolet Impala SS. The third car was glaring at Ryan pretty hard. He was a black and red '04 Pontiac GTO with black wheels and a red spoiler. Ryan felt the glare and returned the eye contact.

"Sure, why not?" The Pontiac said. He had a very deep and relaxed voice. The other cars agreed.

The Mitsubishi turned to Ryan and spoke. "We're running sprints. Throw down the cash, and we'll let you run with us."

Ryan nervously looked down and replied. "Uh, I don't have any cash."

"It's okay, let him run anyway." The Pontiac said.

The Mitsubishi shrugged and the Impala held back a laugh. The four cars lined up evenly with each other in the middle of Highway 99. Ryan could feel the Pontiac still stealing glares at him, which really set him on edge. Regardless, he was sure he was going to win. The Impala informed everyone on where the finish point would be, which was at the old Country Club where all the old cars would hang out and play golf.

"GO!"

The four cars sped off from the starting line and began the race. They whizzed past traffic cars that were honking at them, begging them to decrease their speed. Nope. Nothing could stop the thrill of bullying the laws of physics, and desperately wanting to prove how fast you were compared to fellow racers. Even though the Mitsubishi and Chevy were falling behind, Ryan noticed that the Pontiac was beginning to slightly pull ahead.

Ryan smirked when an idea crossed his mind. Even after going well past the 150mph mark at this point, he transitioned himself to the oncoming side of the highway, in preparation for the sharp left they were about to take for an exit. The GTO noticed this move and mentally complemented the BMW on his bravery and willingness to win. Still though, the GTO was in it for the win. He quickly took the proper exit, snapped himself out of the left turn, and used his nitrous supply as a last attempt to catch up to the BMW. However, Ryan's throttle control out of his turns were matched by nearly no one, and he was almost already out of the line of sight.

Ryan sighed in satisfaction when he approached the Country Club, which meant that he had won the race since he was the first to make it there. He slowed himself to a stop, and positioned himself on the sidewalk while he waited for the others. It wasn't long until everyone else made it across the line, however, the Impala and 3000GT proceeded to storm off, not bothering to stick around for more races with Ryan.

"They're just sore losers." The Pontiac said. "Don't even worry about em'." The BMW nodded his hood and shook his tire with his former opponent. "Name's Rog."

"Ryan."

After the friendly gesture, Rog started in the opposite direction, and called for Ryan to join him. "Come on. Let's take a drive."

At first Ryan was a little hesitant since he didn't know the guy, but could tell that Rog was an interesting character that maybe had something that could help him. He put himself in gear and followed the GTO.

* * *

Two college students were chilling out underneath a tree in the Rosewood State University campus. One was a blue Maxima, and the other was a red Cavalier. The Maxima took out his new report card, and his gas tank sunk when he saw a fat "F" in the test catalog.

"Crap. I thought I'd at least make a C! I don't get why Mr. Hubbard makes his tests so damn hard."

"Why didn't you just get the answers from Sonny, like you usually do?" The Cavalier asked.

"Didn't you hear? Sonny is gone, dude. Got kicked out like a week ago, and he's _never_ coming back. Rumor has it that he got put on some sort of FBI hit list or something like that."

"For real?"

"Totally man. He's like a wanted criminal now. All because he couldn't keep his wheels out of where they didn't belong. Told ya he was gonna get caught soon."

"Yeah. Guess it was only a matter of time. Especially when he was going around bragging about his street racing and mods he did to himself." The two cars left the campus park, and began heading back to their classes.

The Maxima spoke up one last time before they went their separate ways. "I can say that the saddest thing about Sonny is how young he is. It's a wrap for him now."

"Yeah… sad… well, I'll see you after class, dude."

"Alright. See ya."

Sonny never cared about what anybody thought of him. He always saw himself as a prodigy and the "next big thing." After graduating high school, he got a taste of the fast lane life, and decided that he would dedicate himself to building street cred early in his young adulthood. Whether it was through street racing or getting his wheels on illegal performance parts, Sonny knew that by the time he was much older, he'd be rolling in his dirty money. However, he never saw the income as "dirty." He liked to think that "money is money," and to the young car, it felt great to be able to fall back on a thick bed of green when things got tough.

His parents sure weren't helping him out. They sent him to RSU, expecting him to get good grades. Truth was, Sonny was smart as heck, but only pretended to be trying to make something out of himself until he could get enough cash to move out of his parent's house. Even with the expenses of living in an apartment by himself, paying college dues, and working side hustles, he was well off for a car that was fresh out of high school. Everything changed when Sonny heard of a way to _significantly_ boost his street cred.

When one of his business partners told him about the Blacklist, Sonny knew that he had to put himself on ASAP. He dumped even _more_ mods into himself, and began participating in as many races as he could. The final nail in the coffin was when an officer clocked him going over 120mph in a residential area. The very next day, police officers were briefed to be looking out for a new addition to the infamous Blacklist.

_"He's a white Volkswagen Golf GTI, with blue and yellow highlights throughout the body." An officer told his squad. Pictures of Sonny were passed around the group of police cars as the squad leader continued the description. "He has red Chinese markings on his hood and each side of his body, as well as the number twenty-eight on his quarter panels." The squad leader closed his book and took off his glasses. "It's the same tactic we use for all these other delinquents. No mercy."_

* * *

The two cars were cruising along the streets of Rosewood. Ryan followed closely behind Rog, feeling a little awkward due to how silent they both were until the GTO spoke up.

"I was there when you raced Razor." Ryan's attention peaked in an instant; although, he felt a little embarrassed because he knew Rog must've seen him break down that day.

"That wasn't me at my full potential." Ryan quickly mentioned.

Rog's low, gritty laugh bounced off of the guard rails that they cruised beside by. "Don't worry. _Everyone_ knows that race was rigged. It's just that nobody has the guts to call Razor out on his bullshit; especially when he's the fastest car in the city now. Something tells me that you're different."

"What gave it away?"

Rog laughed a little harder. "You're still in Rockport." The two cars approached a red light, and Ryan pulled next to Rog's right side. "I know this city and it's street racing scene like the tread of my tire. If you want help, I got some info for you that can help you get to Razor."

"I can use all the help I can get."

The sun was starting to set behind the clouds as Ryan made it into Rog's garage. The BMW rolled in and was greeted by a few of Rog's friends that were also hanging out there. Rog went over to a light blue '02 Toyota MR2.

"Hey, Mitch I need a favor. Go in the back and boot up the computer."

"Gotcha." Mitch responded.

Rog turned back around to Ryan. "Imma tell you like it is, Ryan. Getting to Razor ain't gonna be a walk in the park. We're about to show you exactly why."

Ryan already knew where this conversation was leading to, but he figured he should get an explanation from more than one person about the Blacklist. The BMW was led downstairs to a room where Mitch was parked working on a computer.

"Okay, Rog, y'know the drill." His voice was high pitched and cracked a lot in each sentence. "We can only be on the RPD's database for about a couple of minutes until they've found out we're hacked in." Ryan squinted his eyes and paid close attention to the computer screen. Rog bumped his tire onto Ryan's fender.

"Alright. Let me give you the four one one." Rog outstretched his wheel to point at the screen. "This here is called the Blacklist. In order for you to even _think_ about challenging Razor, you have to get on the list for starters. What's stopping you from getting on the list? _This_ guy."

Mitch clicked on a link, which pulled up the criminal record of the fifteenth Blacklist member. Ryan wheeled himself a little closer to get a better look. He began to read to himself the text that was displayed on the screen. _"__Legal name is Ho Seun. Also known as, 'Sonny.' Age is nineteen. Hails from Hillcrest. Bounty is twenty-thousand. Wanted for accounts of street racing and multiple warrants detailing the possession of illegal performance enhancing equipment." _"Wait a minute. This guy's just a kid." Said Ryan in shock.

"So what?" Rog asked. "Don't act like you never did some stupid stuff when you were younger. We all have."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between drag racing on a backroad, and ending up on a wanted poster."

"I guess you're right, but don't let the fact that Sonny is a youngster stop you. He's on the same list as all the other racers that you need to beat to run against Razor." Ryan had to admit that the GTO was right. It boggled his mind of how a teenager could end up with an extended rap sheet. "You'll find out that there's a lot of crazy cars on the Blacklist. If you think Sonny is a basket case, just wait until you meet the others."

Mitch quickly closed the browser and shut off the computer. He backed away and Ryan and Rog were looking at him a little confused. "Geez, kid. You act like you've been caught watching a dirty movie or something. I keep telling you to relax. They won't trace us." Rog said.

"I don't know, man." Mitch's voice never ceased to be ridden with nervousness. "I just have this feeling in my tank that they'll catch onto us one day."

Rog scoffed and led Ryan out of the room. "A buddy of mine figured out a way to hack into the police database undetected, and he taught Mitch how to do it before he passed away."

Ryan lowered his eyes in respect. "Sorry to hear that."

Rog grunted in response and continued. "No one saw it coming. The man was being chased by cops one day, and ran over a faulty spike strip. A loose spike ended up in his system…" Rog closed his own eyes now. "...Medics couldn't get it out of him in time."

Ryan cringed at the thought, and contemplated where he was again. This was Rockport. It was the craziest place he had been in so far. Cops were feared more than anything, and street racers were brave enough to race in broad daylight. "The cops are really no joke here, are they?"

Rog glanced at Ryan in almost disbelief, and went into the kitchen. He opened the cooler and grabbed a couple of beers. He wheeled one to Ryan, and parked himself up against the bar. The moonlight invaded the darkness of the garage through the panes that were positioned in the doors. The only artificial light came from the TV in the corner, where two other cars were watching the news to get a dose of the daily tragic events. Rog opened his beer with the rim of his wheel, and began speaking again.

"You've never been chased by those machines yet. But when you get into your first pursuit, _everything_ will make sense to you." Rog opened up his phone. "Give me your number. I'll keep you updated on what's going on in the city, and when you've reached your milestones to challenge a rival." Ryan complied, and shared the information. The two sat chatting for a little while longer. Rog noticed that Ryan hadn't touched his beer. "Not much of a drinker, huh?"

Ryan felt guilty and apologized. "I didn't want to be rude."

Rog grinned. "You're a real nice guy. Just promise me that you won't let this city change you. I've seen it happen too many times to too many good cars like you."

Ryan nodded his hood. "I think I'll be going now. Thanks for helping me out, Rog."

"Anytime. You're welcome to the garage anytime." The BMW began heading out. "Hey Ryan!" Rog called before he made it out the door.

"Yeah?"

"Watch your back out there."

Ryan nodded, and left for his safehouse. He entered the dark abandoned warehouse of his, and began making preparations for sleep. He took a shower, ate a midnight snack, and took another look at the Blacklist on the wall. However, this time, he wasn't looking at the list for information. He looked and remembered the car that put it there in the first place. Mia.

He rolled over to the piece of chalk that still lay on the ground from when she dropped it. Ryan checked the time. It was almost midnight. He hadn't heard from her all day, and wanted to hear that voice which was like honey to him. Ryan had met other girls in his lifetime, but circumstances always prevented relationships from taking off. There was one girl in Palmont that he had serious feelings for, but other than her, he never hit it off with anyone else.

Sometimes, he figured he made himself too distant from everyone. It's not like he didn't want a girlfriend, rather, it was that he was unsure of how to approach the situation. Now, there was Mia. She's unlike anyone he's ever met, and Ryan was clueless on how to talk to _her_. He didn't know if she was attracted to him, or just _really_ friendly. He had seen friendships crumble due to guys making incorrect assumptions of how the girl felt. He paced around the room, wondering if he should call her at such a late time of night. _"__Don't think. Just go with it." _He told himself.

He flipped out his phone and dialed Mia's number. The phone rang… and it rang… and it rang some more… and then the ringing stopped. There was a pause of silence, and Ryan hoped it was Mia picking up the phone. However, the voice mail machine shot down his hopes. _"__Damn it."_ He really would love to speak to her again, but figured she was probably sleeping. Speaking of sleep, that very idea sounded good to him at the moment. He rolled onto his bed, and shut his eyes for the last time tonight.

* * *

"Good evening, darling! I'm home." A Volkswagen Type 3 made his way into his house and greeted his wife. She was a '73 Volkswagen Beetle Cabriolet. The husband and wife greeted each other and kissed.

"How'd the meeting go?" The wife asked.

The husband grunted and sighed. "Same like the last one. At this point, they're just wasting my time. Stocks are falling, and so is my tolerance with the boss' shenanigans."

The Beetle kissed her husband again in an effort to ease his nerves. "Now, honey, hang in there. You're a patient young man. Nobody is as qualified for the job as you are."

The Type 3 refrained from laughing in his wife's face. "Patient? Young? Ha! Don't know about that, sweetie. At least you're optimistic."

She gently slapped him on his fender. "Oh, stop being such a cave dweller and come eat dinner with me."

"Heh. Yes, ma'am."

The married couple sat eating dinner with each other in perfect harmony, until that harmony was interrupted by loud banging on their door. The Type 3 stopped what he was doing and took a glance at the entry to their home.

"Now who could that be?"

The Beetle grew a hopeful look on her face. "What if it's him? Oh, goodness. We haven't even straightened the house in-"

"Relax, darling." The Type 3 said, interrupting his wife. "Of _course_ it isn't _him_."

Even though he spat words of doubt, deep in his heart, he hoped that it was his son behind the door. Who else could it be? The Type 3 took a deep breath in anticipation, and opened the door. The Volkswagen was shocked to see a black C6 Corvette with an RPD badge, parked at his door.

"Good evening." Cross said. "May I have a word with you?"

The Type 3 shook his hood, and refocused himself. "Absolutely officer. Right this way."

The Beetle's axles sunk when she saw an officer enter her house. "Wh-what's going on?" She nervously asked.

The husband turned to his wife and gave her a reassuring look to stay calm. Cross slowly parked himself and took off his glasses in a swaggering manner.

"Mister and Misses Ho, I regret to inform you… that your son has gotten himself into some trouble, that I'm afraid will haunt him for the rest of his life."

The parents' gas tanks sunk at the news. Tears immediately started forming in the Beetle's eyes. "What happened to my baby? What did he do?"

"Stay with me, Misses Ho. I want to help your son, and I _will_ help your son. However, I need your cooperation."

"Officer," the father started. "Please tell us what our son has done."

Cross cleared his throat, pulled out a yellow envelope and handed it to the parents. They both opened the envelope, and read the document that was inside together. Cross watched their eyes grow wider in shock as they realized they were looking at their own son's rap sheet. The Type 3 hesitantly returned the document to Cross. The Beetle struggled not to cry, and headed out of the living room.

"Like I said before, I can help your son. Do you have any whereabouts of where he may be?"

The father slowly shook his hood, holding back tears of his own as well. He couldn't believe that his boy was now a criminal. "No, officer. He up and moved out of our house one day. He said he didn't need us anymore. We never even heard from him since. We have no idea where he could be."

Cross sighed and nodded his hood. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Ho. I felt like it was appropriate to inform you on this matter in person. I do hope you can excuse the bad news I had to bring forth tonight." Cross began making his way over to the entrance of the house. "However, I promise that the next time you see me, there will be good news to share."

Cross let his sunglasses cover his windshield once more, and gently closed the door behind him as he made his way out of the house.

* * *

"Pleasure doing business with you, bro." Sonny said to one of his customers. It was an average early morning in Rockport. Multiple groups of cars met up all throughout the city to discuss their plans for racing and whatnot for the day. Sonny and a few other cars were parked outside one of the old parking lots. The GTI shook tires with his client, and smiled at the new pile of cash he just accumulated. "Business is bangin' as usual."

"Aye y'all. It's Mister Blacklist fifteen!" An FTO sarcastically announced from among the crowd. "I guess you think you're the shit now, huh?" Sonny couldn't help but smile and worship himself. He felt like he had become a celebrity around town. "Aye, you gotta lotta nerve showing your face 'round here. Y'know the po po looking for you on the daily."

"Yeah. And you don't make yourself easy to blend in." Another car mentioned. He was a '96 Camry.

Sonny scoffed. "Man, you think I'm _scared_ of the red and blues?"

Some others chuckled. "No, but you should be scared of that BMW. I heard he's coming for your spot." Someone mentioned.

"Nah, I heard that guy is trash." Another car disagreed.

"You talking about that Brian, Simon or whatever that dude's name is? He was the one that got bodied by Razor, right?" The FTO asked.

"His name is _Ryan_." The Camry corrected. "We have _him_ to thank for Razor getting so freakishly fast. Word is that he was some hotshot that came from Bayview with a shit ton of cash under his belt. Dude had a lot of street cred but was dumb enough to do a pink slip race with _Razor _of all cars. Razor took all his quid and souped himself up. I heard he's running at least 200k under his hood now. All thanks to that dumbass BMW."

The talk about Ryan's unfortunate defeat spread mildly around town. Because of the unreliability of word of mouth, Ryan was made out to seem like a loser that put a silver spoon into Razor's mouth. Sonny heard a couple of times about this car that was building his rep to make it onto the Blacklist. However, Sonny wasn't scared. If anything, _he_ was getting ready to challenge the next Blacklist member in a few days himself.

The GTI imagined himself at the top of everybody's wanted list. He imagined the cops desperately trying to capture him, and he imagined racers giving anything to be like him. Even though he had a long way to go, he truly believed that the peak of his career was right around the corner.

"You better smoke him, Sonny." One of the cars from the crowd said.

"Bro, y'all watch. Imma blow the doors off that dude." Sonny bragged. "He won't even see it coming."

"I don't have faith in your abilities." The Camry spoke up. "You're fresh on the Blacklist. So what? It's too bad that BMW is gonna take your place already."

The GTI was really getting annoyed now. He didn't like to be around people who doubted him. "Y'all really think I'm gonna lose to some square from outta town?" He popped his hood for everyone to see the extensive and illegal mods that were equipped in his engine bay.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. You're not even Blacklist material, Sonny. Enjoy your two seconds of fame while they last."

Some of the cars started laughing. Sonny cursed the Camry out, and began revving his engine. "Are y'all blockheads gonna sit around all day, or are we gonna race?"

"I don't know." The FTO hysterically said, still trying to control his laughter. "Don't you have some homework to catch up on, frat boy?"

Sonny dismissed his insult and stretched his axles in preparation for the race. "Man, shut yo ass up and get on the start line."

* * *

Ryan swiftly skidded past the two flares that were placed on the road, and began catching his breath as his wheels became stationary. Three other cars then passed the finish point, and exchanged cash with the winner. The M3 GTR had been running his engine hot all day, vigorously building his rep and meeting milestones to challenge his upcoming rival. Ryan looked at the money he accumulated just now, which totaled up to be $3,000. Even though it felt good to have cash again, his true craving was not for cash or anything of the sort. His heart burned for revenge against Razor.

He didn't like to harbor negative thoughts in his mind, but he couldn't stop thinking about that day… the worst day of his life. The loss… the pain… the embarrassment. If he could, Ryan would race every Blacklist racer back to back, non-stop, until he got to that cowardly Mustang. However, he had to remember one of the many lessons he learned when he first entered the world of street racing. That lesson was patience. The BMW learnt very early in his life, that _everyone_ reaps what they sow. It was only a matter of time, blood, and sweat that Razor receives his punishment.

The loud crackling of static, followed by the voice of an officer, interrupted his thoughts. One of his fellow opponents had a device that could detect police communication in the area. All of the cars intently listened to the radio transmission, where each of their own descriptions were provided by the receptionist.

"Time for us to skedaddle." One of the cars said.

All four cars retreated from the area in different directions. Ryan eventually made it to his safehouse, and shut off his engine. Today had been an exhausting, but successful day. Ryan won three races in a row and acclaimed a bounty of 24,000 by allowing speed cameras to catch him going way over the speed limit. It was also enough bounty to challenge the Volkswagen Golf. He plopped himself down onto the sofa, and began enjoying some well earned rest and relaxation. He was watching a Piston Cup race on TV.

A gentle knocking on the warehouse door interrupted his amusement. Ryan looked over from the sofa as the door opened, followed by a red RX-8 making her way through the door. She wheeled herself around the room and made it over to Ryan, who couldn't help but stare at her.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable both on and off the streets. I bet you're liking Rockport, huh?"

Ryan simply nodded; Not uttering a sound. Her beauty and charm was something he would have to get used to. Until then, it was nearly impossible for him not to be overtaken by nervousness.

She sighed. "You don't have to be shy around me, y'know."

Ryan cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. "I'm not."

Mia chuckled, seeing right through the front he was putting up. "You're a good racer, but a terrible liar, Ryan."

He looked away, mentally damning himself for being so unintentionally transparent. He turned his attention back towards the TV, in an effort to keep himself from doing anything else stupid around the woman. It was a few minutes of awkward silence as Mia helped herself to a couple of drinks that Ryan hadn't even noticed she put in the cooler before. The BMW was focused on how to interact with her. He accepted the fact that he thought she was very attractive. The thing that killed his swagger was the realization that she wasn't going anywhere. She was the first car he met in Rockport, and played a pivotal role in him getting back on his feet.

He wanted to know more about her, and see if maybe things would go further. After all, it had been a long time since he even had feelings for anyone. But how exactly should he go about it? It was the question he struggled to answer for himself. The Mazda came over and parked herself next to the BMW.

"People are talking about you y'know. We never really heard of a car standing up to Razor, until now. I guess people have hope that someone will finally drive him out of the city. He's always been a real pain."

"If I were them, I wouldn't hold my breath. I don't feel as fast as I used to. I guess my engine suffered more than just a simple lock-up."

He looked down at the sheets of paper that were scattered all over the floor, which contained his performance data. Ever since his engine got put back in, he conducted tests to make sure his usual specs were the same. Unfortunately, he noticed that his overall performance has declined. Mia followed his eyes and noticed the papers on the floor. She rolled over and took a look at the data.

"Geek." She teased.

He shrugged his wheels. "It's geeks that makes the world go 'round."

"You can always just hit up a local chop shop and get some mods. I know a guy-"

"That's not enough, Mia." He cut her off and sighed. "Yeah, sure. Upgrades may help. But I know I have to push my limits out here. The competition in this city is unlike anything I've ever seen. I've got to be _more_ than fast."

She took a deeper look at him, and nodded; completely understanding where he was coming from. She playfully tapped him on his fender with her tire. "I'll be here to help you along the way."

He smiled and couldn't control the beat of his heart. _"__Mia really is something else. I like her… a lot." _She rolled away to dispose of her trash, and that's when Ryan's phone began ringing. He took a look at the caller. It was Rog.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Hey man. That chump, Sonny, is looking for a run. Make sure you don't screw this up. This is your only ticket to the Blacklist."

Ryan smirked. "I've got this. I'll contact Sonny tomorrow. Look forward to some good news."

Rog's deep laughter echoed through the cell phone speakers. "I like the sound of that. Get some rest. Later." Ryan hung up the phone and looked over at Mia, who was curiously staring at him.

"Whooo was thaaat?" She asked in a teasing tone.

"A friend of mine."

"Hmm. Making friends already? I guess you're not as anti-social as I thought."

Ryan didn't comment and turned off the TV for the night. "I'm racing Sonny tomorrow. Once I get on the Blacklist, there's no looking back at my old freedoms. Right?"

Mia sucked her teeth and began heading for the door. "That's why you have to make sure that this is what you _really_ want."

"I think about Razor almost every minute of the day. I want him. I want to make him feel what I felt that day. I can't stop thinking about it."

"You need to relax. Take things in stride. Razor won't be able to ignore you forever." She began making her way out the door. "Don't let what happened that day change you for the worst Ryan."

He allowed her words to marinate in his mind, and nodded. "I won't."

She took the edge of the door in her wheel and began to close it behind her. "Goodnight, Ryan." The door closed, and he was left in the darkness of the warehouse.

"Goodnight."

* * *

Sonny sat parked in front of the start line, which was just outside of RSU. It was a Sunday, so the university campus was empty, except for the cars that came to spectate the race. Traffic cars slowly idled by and shook their hoods. Even _they_ knew what was about to go down. It happened far too much in this city. The GTI was gearing himself up by professing how bad he would beat his opponent. Sonny's bragging stopped and his frame tensed as he heard the unique whine of a P60B40 engine slowly approach behind him. The crowd that stood on the sidelines couldn't help but murmur to each other as the M3 GTR rolled into position next to Sonny. Cars like Ryan weren't often seen in Rockport. They could tell that besides the extensive amount of performance equipment hooked up to his body, Ryan had something _different_ about him. He projected an aura of raw determination and will power. Add to the fact that in his soul burned the flames of revenge, and you had one special car that put most people on edge.

Sonny took a deep breath and reminded himself of how "far" he came. He took a look at the BMW that sat right next to him in the other lane. He looked back at the road in front of him, and told Ryan off.

"No way I'm letting you steal everything I've worked so hard for."

Ryan remained mute, and glanced to his right at the Volkswagen. He felt a little compassion for the kid, because he was once his age as well, and understood where Sonny's mind was at. But the fact still remained. He had to beat him. Earlier in the day, Mia briefed Ryan on how Blacklist races usually worked. Instead of just one race, there was usually two races back to back that the challenger must participate in. If the challenger were to lose any of the two races, it would qualify as a loss for the entire challenge. There were absolutely no room for mistakes.

Both Ryan and Sonny paid attention as the referee positioned himself in front of the two cars. He briefly explained the course of the first race and started counting down. The rest of the crowd joined in on the countdown too.

"Three! Two! One! GO!"

Both cars held their breath as they rocketed themselves out of first gear. In what seemed like just a flash, the starting line was rapidly disappearing in their rearview mirrors. Ryan was impressed with Sonny's launch control, especially for him being a front-wheel drive car. The rumors were true about the GTI being pumped full of mods. The two cars drifted into the first turn, with Sonny being just outside of Ryan's right door. Sonny quickly avoided colliding with a pole, and straightened himself out. His awkward maneuver put him a couple of seconds behind Ryan already.

The GTI watched Ryan began to get further away as they curved around more turns. Sonny cursed under his fleeting breath and prepared his nitrous system. "_I know it's early, but I GOTTA keep up with this dude."_ He preached to himself. He jerked as he felt the instant boost of torque attack his wheels. As they made it to another straight, Ryan heard the sound of Sonny's engine getting closer. Before he knew it, the Volkswagen was right beside him with a confident grin. Ryan focused back on the road just in time to avoid a blue truck that was in his way. He swerved out of the way and used the sudden momentum to initiate an inertia drift.

From then, Ryan smoothly drifted into the last turn of the lap, and regained the lead. Sonny tried his best not to be intimidated by Ryan's moves. It was clear that the BMW had years of experience under his wheels. And that's when Sonny knew he was outmatched. Though, he didn't want to admit it. They still had one lap left. Both cars flew by the spectators that were still on the sidelines.

"Man, Sonny's getting dusted, man."

"COME ON, SONNY! YOU GOT THIS!"

The GTI heard his boys cheering for him in the distance. It was just the motivation he needed to kick himself into high gear, and give it his all. Ryan was quickly widening the gap again, but Sonny was hugging each corner he turned with like it was the end of his life; desperately trying to shave seconds off of his lap time. It wasn't enough. They made it to another straight and even though his nitro hadn't recharged yet, he resorted to squeezing as much of the substance out of his system as possible. It still wasn't enough. In a last resort effort, the GTI threw himself into the last turn, nearly colliding with a concrete wall, and quickly shifted his stance for the final mile. As usual, he was too late. Before his very eyes, Sonny found himself watching Ryan cross the finish line first.

"DAMMIT!" He shouted.

Ryan watched the Volkswagen pull to the side and gulp down cans of oil that the spectators had brought for the event. Ryan chugged some of his own oil, and both cars proceeded to meet at the start of the next race.

"East of Highway 99, through the suburbs, and down the Campus Interchange. Got it?" The referee asked.

Both cars simply nodded. There were fewer spectators this time. Most of the cars figured that Sonny didn't have a chance and gave up hope. Sonny very much felt that reality too. He poured everything he had into the previous race. He pushed himself further than what he even knew was possible for himself. Yet, his opponent still came out on top. He didn't want to acknowledge it. In fact, he never would, because his pride would prevent him from doing so. But, he knew he was in his last moments of being a member of the legendary Blacklist.

"Three! Two! One! GO!"

At the shout of that final word, Sonny's racing career flashed before his eyes. He thought back to his very first day that he went over the speed limit and how good it felt to release himself from the shackles of the law. He remembered his first street race, and his first black market deal. The Volkswagen eagerly wanted to believe that his life was just beginning. All he needed to do was win this last race. "_I just have to beat this punk one time, and then-"_ Sonny opened his eyes, and his own breath got trapped in his throat. He looked to see the BMW sitting across the finish line, catching his breath. Sonny looked to his right and saw other cars taking off.

"What happened?!" Sonny frantically asked.

"What you mean? You lost!" Someone from the side said.

The comment was followed by angry murmurs from cars that lost their bet money. Sonny looked down and started feeling the heat from his tire. Indeed, he realized that he had to have just finished running again. "_There's no way he smoked me that fast. I didn't even realize it. I wasn't even paying attention."_ Ryan went up to the Volkswagen and gave him his condolences.

"I don't want you to think of this as a loss. You've got a lot of potential. Don't let it go to waste."

Ryan reached out his wheel for a tire shake, but Sonny batted his wheel away with his own.

"Screw you." The GTI angrily spat.

Ryan could see the look of hopelessness in Sonny's eyes, but turned around and began making way for his safehouse. He had already tried to consolidate. There was no use in pursuing things further. He took his prize money, and left the scene.

* * *

It was later at night. Word quickly spread around Rosewood of the big race earlier that afternoon. Ryan sat parked next to Rog and Mitch, looking at the RPD Database.

"There he is." Said Rog. "The new number fifteen on the Blacklist." Rog turned to Ryan. "How do you feel?"

Ryan looked at his own Blacklist entry. The reality finally sunk in. There was a blurry picture of himself that was captured by one of the speed cameras he triggered. The photo was next to his bio. _"__Legal name: Ryan Cooper. Hails: Palmont. Age: 27 Bounty: 24,000 Wanted for excess speeding over 150mph on average, and severe reckless driving. Has extensive history of street racing through multiple states. Racer is to be apprehended as soon as possible." _

"I feel like I'm right where I need to be."


	3. First Pursuit

Loud music, shouts of laughter, and engines revving reverberated against the walls of the huge parking garage. It was late at night, and Razor was hosting one of his many parties to worship himself as the baddest car in town. At the end of it all, Razor's parties was just a way for cars to meet girls to take home, get into fights, and make underground exchanges.

The black Mustang sat parked at the very top of the parking garage. Two women were beside him as he looked out into the skyline. He felt like he was king of the world. He sighed in satisfaction. Life was good. Razor turned around when he heard the aggressive rumble of an AMG engine approaching him.

He shot a smile at his buddy, Bull, and shooed the two women away. "Excuse us, ladies." Razor turned back around and the black Mercedes pulled up next to the Ford. Both of them looked out into the stunning canvas of the city. "Whattya think, Toru? I should probably send Ryan a thank you card. None of this would've been possible without his generous donation."

Razor laughed at his own joke. Bull simply hummed. "Speaking of that guy, I came to talk to you about him."

Razor chuckled. "What's there to talk about? Hasn't he left town yet?"

"Wait, you didn't hear what happened?"

Razor looked at him dumbfounded. "Nah. What's up?"

Bull regretfully sighed, wishing that he didn't have to be the bearer of bad news. He looked straight ahead into the distance to avoid Razor's incoming disappointment. "He had a race with Sonny, earlier today. Sonny lost." The Mercedes deeply exhaled. "You know what _that_ means."

Razor shook his hood and laughed. "That's all, Toru?! That's what you're so worked up about?! Ha ha!"

Bull turned back to the Mustang with a serious glare. "Razor, this isn't funny. This means that that car is coming after you. He's _on_ the _Blacklist_ now." Bull put heavy emphasis into his sentence, trying to get the message across to his leader.

Razor took a swig of his beer. "I'm not worried about that nobody. He won't even make it past the other Blacklist racers to get to me." Razor shot Bull a condescending look through the corner of his eye. "Isn't that right, Toru?"

Bull scoffed, shaking off Razor's scorn. Razor not only spent money on himself, but also forked out cash to get Bull and Ronnie mods that significantly boosted their performance. Thanks to their new upgrades, Razor and his gang quickly found themselves to be the most unstoppable cars in the city. Bull was number two on the Blacklist, and Ronnie was third. Now that three of them were at the top, they seemingly had a lot to live up to.

"What do you mean, 'Isn't that right'? Of course he won't beat me. And that's _if_ he even beats Ronnie, and the guys before _him_."

Razor nodded. "You see what I'm saying? Stop worrying about that loser." Razor took the last swig of his beer, and chucked the bottle over the side of the building; not caring what or who it landed on. "We have nothing to worry about."

The Mustang rolled away from the ledge, and began making his way down the parking garage. Deep down inside, Razor thought that he would never hear about that BMW ever again. His gas tank sunk when he realized that Ryan wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

* * *

Ryan rolled up to the toll booth, and punched in his time. The sun was beating down on the busy highway in north Rosewood. He revved up his engine and gave himself time to prepare for the task ahead. "_One… two… three…"_ He launched himself out of first gear, and began his chase for the next tollbooth.

Earlier in the day, Rog informed Ryan on a way that the street racers in Rockport proved their abilities outside of races. The method was called "Tollboothing," which involved a car recording the amount of time it took for him or her to make it from one tollbooth to another. It also served as a way for a car to increase their bounty, since the tollbooth's info was automatically shared to the RPD database. Rog warned Ryan about how dangerous this kind of event was, when the stakes were taken into consideration.

Tollbooth stations were only located on the highways of Rockport, which meant that dodging heavy traffic would be a big issue. There was also the fact that nearby patrols would usually be immediately informed about any speeding cars, since the tollbooths were also equipped with cameras. The BMW couldn't help but worry about when the time came for him to be chased by the police. Rog's words were something Ryan pondered, ever since he first heard them. "_But when you get into your first pursuit, everything will make sense to you." _

Ryan approached the next tollbooth and looked at his timer. "_Forty two seconds. I gotta drive harder."_ Ryan took an exit, and made his way down a detour road that was infested with bumps in the asphalt. It was a rocky ride, but worth it in order to meet his desired standard. The end of the detour had a large hump in the terrain, and the M3 braced himself for the jump. In a matter of seconds, he found himself suspended in the air over traffic cars that could only pray that they didn't get landed on. He extended his suspension and absorbed the impact of the fall, but had little time to think when he realized he was in the oncoming traffic lane.

Before he could collide with a taxi that was frozen in fear, he swerved to his left, to skim by the line of cars that backed up the road. He could see the next tollbooth in sight. He focused himself as he continued to drive past the cars from the narrow side of the road. The pedestrians relentlessly beeped at him in an effort to stop his joy ride, but they were just getting on his nerves at this point. He saw a gap in the line of cars, and swiftly transitioned from the side of the road, and back onto the pavement, where cars were moving in the same direction he was. He flew by the tollbooth, and glanced at the timer again.

"_A minute and five seconds. Come on, Ryan. You can do better than this."_ His goal was to reach the last tollbooth in under a minute and thirty seconds. He took a deep breath and drifted onto the merge ramp, so that he could get back onto the highway. He began counting down the amount of time he had left. "_Fifteen…" _He opened up his valves, and allowed the nitrous to enter his system. He jolted from the sudden burst of speed, and everything in his peripheral vision became nothing but a blur. He weaved in and out of traffic, just barely knicking the paint of the pedestrians. "_Ten…"_

The next tollbooth was visible in the distance. He grinned. He knew he was going to make it. He pushed himself hard for the final stretch of road, and successfully made it past the last tollbooth with three seconds to spare. "_Good. But not good enough." _He chastised himself. Just as he finished, a group of cars in a race blew past him. He thought of joining them, but instead decided to retreat to the shadows underneath the highway, so that he could catch his breath.

The BMW leaned his body up against one of the pillars, and contemplated on what he could've done to make his last run faster. He could still feel the effects of having his engine messed up. Once again, the thoughts of _him_ returned. The M3 could feel the heat of his engine rising, and he knew it wasn't from how hard he had recently pushed it. "_I'll make you pay, Razor. Rest assured, buddy. You will pay." _Ryan shook his hood back and forth, and slowly exhaled in order to calm himself down. The phone started ringing, and he was glad to have a distraction from thinking about the only car he ever found himself hating in his life. He eagerly flipped open his phone when he saw who was calling.

"Hey, Ryan, what's up?" Her voice immediately took away all the ill feelings he just felt, and replaced them with happiness. He was enthralled to hear her again.

"Hey." He nearly whispered out.

"Turns out that Razor's decided to keep tabs on you. He must've thought that you'd end up as another faded memory."

"After everything's said and done, he'll _never_ forget me. I'll make sure of that."

She chuckled. "It's good to know he'll be watching his back from now on. I just wanted to let you know about that. Keep doin' your thing, Ryan. I'll talk to you later."

He closed his phone, and headed out from under the highway, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he finally saw one of _them_. An officer was parked across the street, speaking to a civilian. From what Ryan could tell, the civilian was frantic and disheveled, and was using his entire body to describe to the officer what he had seen. He figured the car was probably telling the cop about Ryan's boisterous driving earlier.

The BMW slowly began backing up, making sure he didn't make any sudden movements that would draw attention to himself. His efforts were futile, and the pedestrian noticed Ryan from across the street, and quickly pointed toward him.

"That's him officer! The one who nearly sent me into the wall!"

The cop swiftly turned on his sirens, and hauled bumper after the BMW. Ryan spun his wheels, did a quick J-turn, and sped off away from the cop. He thought fast and merged back on the highway, thinking that he could lose the officer with his superior speed. Sure enough, it was working out, until he noticed backup in the form of two more patrol officers up ahead of him. He slowed himself down to allow himself to come up with a plan. "_There's a cop behind me and two more on each side of the lane in front of me. What do I do?"_ He didn't have time to think, since one civilian car next to him decided to ram his side into Ryan, in an effort to assist police.

"Take that, jackass!" The car shouted.

Ryan temporarily lost control from the attack, and spun out into the grassy terrain that separated the two sides of the highway. Ryan spun to a stop and desperately tried to regain his composure. "GAAHH!" He screamed out in pain as he felt himself being rear ended with a push bumper from one of the officers.

"You are under arrest! Shut down your engine and-" He shut the cop up with the loud revs of his engine as he sped away. The other two cops quickly tried boxing him in; one cop charging at him full speed. Ryan swerved to the left, the cop couldn't control his momentum, and slammed into his partner. Both of the cops' sirens were silenced as the two were knocked unconscious simultaneously. "_Forget the highway. I've got to get tactical."_

The BMW took the next exit, and drifted onto one of the main roads that went through the suburbs. He could still hear the faint sound of the one remaining cop not too far behind him. "What the hell is going over there, Dispatch?! I need back up this instant! Two of my guys are out and I can't keep up with this son of a bitch! Get me more units NOW!"

"Understood." Replied Dispatch. "All units, go into Condition Two. Repeat, this is now a Condition Two chase."

People watched from their houses as the BMW was chased by the Ford police car. Ryan had no shame of loudly interrupting the once peaceful neighborhood with the earsplitting whine of his race-tuned engine. Up ahead, Ryan noticed something that threw him off guard. It was three cops, lined up vertically across the road. The were connected bumper to bumper so that no wiggle room would be allowed for Ryan to get through. "_A roadblock. Crap."_

He couldn't swerve around the left side, since the end of the roadblock was up against a wall of concrete. Plowing straight through the roadblock was a last resort option that he wasn't willing to take. Therefore, he decided to veer to his right, onto the front yards of multiple home owners. He crashed into fences, grills, chairs, all in an effort to avoid the roadblock. Parents and couples watched in horror as their front yards were ruthlessly destroyed by the silver BMW, and prayed that the madness would end.

"Dispatch, we're going to need clean up out here! Suspect avoided the roadblock! Multiple debris and property damage." The officer struggled to stay to communicate since he was getting short of breath. "I'm still the only one out here! Where is my goddamn back up?!"

"Copy that, Bravo Four. Backup should be right around the corner."

The Ford dropped back and allowed the Condition Two units to pursue Ryan from then on. Ryan made it out of the suburbs, and was now on the road that would lead him into the main town section of Rosewood. A flurry of unmarked Crown Victorias decked in all black surrounded Ryan.

Combined with the blinding red and blue light and the overbearing echo of sirens, Ryan was thrust into a whole new world of stress. The reality set in when he realized that at any moment he could be arrested. If he messed up even once, everything he was working toward would be over in an instant. That was something he could not and would not accept under any circumstances. He looked in his peripherals at all the units that surrounded him, and knew that he would need to do whatever it took to get them out of his grill. He piped up his engine and charged straight for a busy intersection.

"Dispatch, inform civilians of current pursuit in the nearby area! This guy is heading straight into an intersection at full speed!"

"Drop back! Drop back!"

The officers skidded to a stop, and their eyes were wide open in shock as they watched Ryan drift right into the intersection. The BMW used his needle like reflexes to pinpoint a safe enough gap to merge, and took the opportunity to invade the busy street. Cars lost control from the sudden appearance of the M3 GTR, and began a chain of crashes that resulted in a horrific pile up.

Ryan looked in his rearview at the chaos that took place directly behind him. He ducked into an alleyway behind an old shop, and shut off his engine. Still hearing sirens nearby, he shifted himself flush against a dumpster, trying his best to remain out of sight. The sirens got closer and closer, and he decided to rush out of the area before he would be spotted. He went out of the alley but was met directly by one of the black Crown Victoria's.

"Dispatch, I got him!" The officer slowly put away his radio and reached for his gun. "You put a lot of folks in danger today, son. For that, you're gonna pay."

Ryan gave the cop no time to think. "Eat my dust."

Ryan, with the force of nitrous oxide propelling him, launched himself straight into the officer's side. The brutal T-bone instantly rendered the cop unconscious, with the only thing still active on the car being the radio. "Bravo Nineteen, supervisor is requesting an update on your situation… Bravo Nineteen… Are you there?" All that could be heard was the faint sound of a M3 engine fleeing the scene.

* * *

Rage seethed through Cross' chassis as he looked over footage from the police pursuit earlier that day for what had to be the hundredth time. He saw mistakes that shouldn't have been made, opportunities that should've been taken, and worst of all, the fact that the criminal suffered no repercussions. Cross stormed out of his office, and began arranging for a meeting to be held in regards to Ryan Cooper.

The Sergeant had everybody who was on duty in headquarters, meet up in the briefing room. All of the patrol units quickly filled up the room in anticipation for what their boss had to say. He turned on a huge television set that took up the majority of the facing wall. On the TV was a photo of Ryan's rap sheet, a photo of an intersection pile up, and a photo of a federal cruiser on a hospital bed. Once all the cars were settled down and comfortably parked, Cross began his speech.

"Good evening. How was everyone's day?" He asked in a calm, gentle voice.

All the officers were immediately put on edge, and prepared themselves for a rough lecture. Whenever Cross began in that seemingly nice tone of voice, it was an obvious sign that the Sergeant was getting ready to burst with anger.

"Oh, it's a little quiet in here, huh? We didn't enjoy ourselves today? We didn't kick back and relax while this guy made our squad look like a bunch of clowns?!" Cross slammed his tires onto the podium in frustration. "Where were you when this guy turned Rosewood upside down?! Where were you when he caused a seven car pileup in the middle of Central Market?! Where were you when one of our men was rammed hard enough to the point he had to be sent to the emergency room?!"

"Sir," one brave soul dared to speak up. "With as much respect as I can give, I have to inform you that there are cars breaking the law at all times in this city. Most of us officers can only focus on one at a time." The brave cop silenced himself when he saw Cross' glare.

"Silver... BMW..." Cross growled out. The cop cars looked at each other in confusion. Cross repeated himself. "Silver. BMW. If you hear _any_ mention of a silver BMW, you stop what you're doing and report to the scene. Do I make myself clear, everyone?"

"Yes sir." Everyone said. All the officers were dismissed and Cross stayed behind to gather his things. One of his other assistants rolled up next to him. Cross took a breather and sank on his rear wheels. "Whatever you do, keep an eye on him." The sergeant told his partner. "His whereabouts are your first priority. Understood?"

His colleague smiled and nodded. "Gotcha."


	4. Blacklist 14: Taz

"Five hundred."

"Make it a thousand."

"Heh. Feeling cocky tonight, aren't we?"

"Y'know it. And I've got this new nos system to back it up."

Two cars were enjoying some friendly banter on a cool night in Rosewood. The race that would soon take place between the two would be a drag race from one stoplight to the next. Nothing too complicated since both of them were fairly new to street racing. One car was a white EK4 Civic, and the other was a silver stock MX-6.

"Meet me a little lower. Seven hundred says I'll smoke you from this block to the next." Said the MX-6.

"Two thousand says I'll smoke _both_ of you from this side of town, to the next."

The two cars turned around to see where the sudden third voice had come from. They stared in shock as a gold Lexus IS300 made his way from the shadows of an empty alley.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Said the Civic.

The Mazda wasn't feeling as brave. "I think we should get going."

"Nah, I don't know who this dude thinks he is, but he ain't talking to _us_ like that."

The Lexus simply smiled and shrugged his wheels. "I'm just a car that's looking for some midnight action. Insomnia is a bitch."

The three cars lined up underneath a stoplight that was currently red. The Mazda took a look at the Lexus that was positioned to his right. He turned back to his friend in concern.

"Dude, what if we can't beat this guy? He looks fast."

The Civic rolled his eyes. "Have some confidence in yourself for a change, dog. He can't beat us no matter how fast he is if we draft with each other. I got the nos equipped, so I'll take the lead. Just don't fall behind."

They both looked back up at the stoplight in fierce anticipation for the light to turn green. It felt like they were waiting for an eternity as their hearts were nearly beating out of their frame, and the red light became seared into their eyes. The immediate change in hue set off a spark of excitement within the three racers.

"GREEN! GO! GO!" Shouted the Civic.

The Honda and Mazda accelerated from zero as fast as they could push themselves to go. MX-6 got behind his buddy just like he was told, and the two cars could already feel the steady increase of velocity. After about twenty seconds into the race, they both looked in their mirrors, only to find the gold colored stranger nowhere in sight.

"Ha! Told ya we would beat him, bro! I might not even have to use the spray!"

The Mazda wasn't sold just yet. He knew there was no way that two of them could win so easily, especially since they were still fairly stock. Their engines continued to wildly whine in the midnight breeze. Besides the rumbling exhaust of a few traffic cars here and there, it was oddly quiet.

"Dang. Are we really beating him this bad?" The Civic asked. "We're almost to the other side of town."

"I doubt it. He's gotta be around somewhere." His suspicions were confirmed when he saw a pair of headlights swiftly approaching from the right of the next intersection. "LOOK OUT!" Shouted the MX-6.

Both of them veered out of the way just in time to avoid being brutally t-boned by the IS300. Civic lost control and skidded into a patch of grass on the side of the road. MX-6 did his best to gain traction and work on catching up to the pair of red taillights. _"Where the hell did he come from so fast?" _The Mazda was going over 90mph but no matter how hard he pushed his pistons, the IS300 was disappearing further and further into the distance of the night.

"Don't stop!" He heard his buddy shout behind him, followed by the sound of nitrous oxide exiting his exhaust. "We can still catch him!" The Civic got in front of the MX-6, and the both of them proceeded to draft together, desperately hoping to catch up to the stranger.

"Crap!" Said the Mazda who was nearly out of breath. "There's no use, man. He won."

The two compact cars regretfully decreased their speed in defeat. A pair of bright high beams slashed into the dark canvas of the night. Honda cursed under his breath when he saw who the lights belonged to. The boys skidded to a stop just a few feet from the Lexus that was patiently waiting for them.

"I won." The Lexus said in a grave tone of voice. "Where's my fancy paper?"

Honda nervously pulled out all the cash that he had on him and swallowed a mountain sized gulp when he saw the expression of the IS300. Mazda did the same as his friend and wished that they never decided to race that night in the first place. The cash that was laid out on the ground accounted to a measly twelve hundred dollars.

"We don't have two thousand." The Civic spurted out.

He could do nothing but look into the eyes of the golden stranger, whose expression mirrored that of a madman. The Lexus sighed, bit his lip, and looked down at the ground.

"Nice race," was all that the IS300 said, and he began heading away from the cars in the opposite direction; his taillights slowly fading away into the mist.

The two young novices looked at each other bewildered, and internally grateful for the mercy that was shown upon them. "I thought we were scrap metal for sure." Said MX-6 as both of them began making their way to their homes.

"I swear man, I never seen a car look at me like that before." Said the Civic. They were driving down a dark alleyway, attempting to cut short the amount of time it took to get to their apartment. Both of them still felt on edge after that nerve-wrecking encounter. "The dude looked like he seriously had something strange going on in his head."

"At least he's gone."

Their frames sharply tensed when they heard the sudden sound of an engine roaring behind them. Both of them turned around just in time to see nothing but a golden blur, and were ferociously body slammed into the brick building to their left. They fumbled back onto their wheels and subconsciously backed into the dumpster behind them and helplessly gazed at the Lexus that they owed money to.

"Oh shit man! Chill out! We'll have your money! Just give us a couple of days!" Wailed the Civic.

Taz was unphased by the pleas for mercy. "Lemme give you some advice on street racing, newbies. NEVER make a bet you can't go through with, or else _you_ might go through a wall! You punks are lucky I'm in a good mood tonight. Consider this a warning."

The mysterious racer sped down the dark alley, leaving his thrashed opponents to think about the painful lesson they had learned that night.

* * *

Rog and his buddies sat parked next to each other, focused on Ryan as the BMW described his last big race that occurred just a couple of days ago.

"And the race was over just like that. The kid has a lot of potential." Ryan shook his hood as he thought back to Sonny's derision. "I tried getting the point across to him, but he didn't want to hear it."

"Ahh, don't sweat it, Ryan." Said Cole, a green Peugeot 206. "Cars like Sonny they think they have themselves all figured out. They don't take advice from anybody."

"If you ask me, the Blacklist is just one big soap opera cast." Said Isaac, a grey Dodge Neon. "All of the cars on there have egos that are too big for their own chassis."

Rog nudged Ryan on the fender. "Speaking of the Blacklist, start preparing yourself as soon as possible for your new target. I'm warning you right now the next guy, Taz, is no joke."

Cole choked on his drink at the mention of that name. "Taz? Damn, I forgot about that freak."

Ryan's curiosity peaked. "Who's Taz?"

"Don't worry about who he is." Rog said. "It don't matter. Just work on knocking this fool out of your way as soon as possible. The faster you get him taken care of, the better. Trust me."

Rog threw out his can of beer and began making his way upstairs for the night. "Later you guys. Hey Ryan, swing by tomorrow morning and I'll give you the rundown on what you need to do so that you can challenge Taz."

Ryan nodded. "Thanks Rog."

Everybody said goodnight and returned to what they were doing once Rog was gone. "What's up with Rog? Why won't he tell me about Taz?" Ryan's thirst for his answer was never quenched. It bothered him that he had no idea about his new opponent.

"He's just looking out for you." Cole said. "The less you know about that car, the more you'll be able to focus on what you need to do."

That wasn't a satisfying answer for Ryan. Yet, he didn't bother to pursue any further, and figured he would find out for himself. _"After all, there's no way Taz could be that_ _bad."_ Ryan thought to himself. He said his goodbye's for the night and drove back onto the streets that were coated by the autumn bliss.

* * *

_[11:37pm] [April 17th, 1993]_

_Rain relentlessly poured down in the sleepless city of New York. A silver, compact Lexus cruised through the early 1990's air. He had yet to make it home after being a spectator of a series of illegal street races. Unfortunately, not everyone saw it that way. To be more specific, his entire family were the ones that actively fought against what the Lexus considered freedom. His father wanted to pass the torch down to his son, and continue the family tradition. The Kilic family were well known to be loyal to the code of justice. The Lexus crept up to the entrance of his home, and quietly opened the garage door to prevent from being heard. He gently closed the door behind him, but was startled when the lights suddenly flicked on in the living room. In the corner, sat his dad that had been patiently waiting for his son to arrive home. _

_"Where were you tonight, Vince?" The parent asked. He was a white '61 Toyota Land Cruiser. _

_"None of your goddamn business." _

_"You think because you're eighteen now that you can talk to your father any way you want?!" _

_"You're not my dad. You're just a fuckin' cop." _

_The Land Cruiser angrily revved his engine, and pushed his son up against the wall. "You're lucky you're my son. I'm the only one who's looking out for you. I can end your life right now! Don't you realize that!? All it takes is a trip to the station, a quick police report, and all this shit you're doing is over with!" _

_Vince mustered a smile even though he still felt pain from being crushed between the wall and his father. "That's exactly why I hate all of you. No one should have that much power under their wheels." _

_The small silver car used the power in his engine to push his father off, and the hefty Toyota toppled into the sofa behind him. Vince took the opportunity to run back out into the stormy night to escape his household. _

_Vince kept his motor running through the heavy rain shower. Going back to his parent's place was no longer an option to him. He disowned his dad and the rest of his family that was made up of police officers, when he deemed them as just a bunch of badge-toting pricks. As far as he was concerned, his only family was the street racers that he hung out with. He drove uptown into the old abandoned subway that he had become familiar with. It was the place where his favorite gang of racers would hang out. _

_"Vince! Didn't expect you back so soon!" Said Regal, who was the leader of one of many street racing gangs in New York. The leader paused when he saw the resentment in Vince's eyes. He sighed and asked, "What'd your pops do this time?" _

_Vince spat on the ground and shook his hood, backing up against the wall that was caked in graffiti. __"I hate that old piece of shit." _

_Other cars looked at the stock Lexus from across the other side of the subway. Vince had been frequently visiting the underground hang out ever since Regal took him under his fender. However, some of the cars were not used to the newcomer and found it hard to include him in the groups' regular activities. This was especially the case when Vince came clean about his family's involvement with law enforcement. The Lexus made it clear that he wasn't a product of his father's teaching, and that he hates cops even more than they do. Despite that fact, most of their trust had not been granted to the street racing enthusiast. _

_"__You wanna crash here for the night?" Regal asked. _

_Vince nodded his hood. "Thanks Regal. You're the brother I never had." _

_The night was going swell in the echoey abandoned subway. While the other cars stayed up mindlessly self-indulging in debauchery, Vince was drifting off to sleep in an old merchandise booth. Even though he didn't have a bed to lay on and was interrupted by the shouts of laughter from among the other cars, he smiled knowing that he was among cars that shared the same view of life as he did. He never felt more at home. _

_Just when his eyes began rolling into the back of his roof, a huge bang followed by what felt like an earthquake, jolted him awake from his rest. He burst out of the room to find the racers scrambling around in a panic. The Lexus spotted Regal among the crowds, and dashed toward him so that he may find answers to what was going on. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only car with that idea, and Regal soon found himself surrounded by his fellow racers who wanted instructions on what to do. Vince thought he was seeing things at first, but by each second, the red and blue lights from down the tunnel became more prominent. Not long after, the dreadful sirens erupted against the rotting walls of the underground haven. Everybody began to freak out even more when they realized they were getting surrounded by the approaching cops. _

_An angry car spun Vince around by the wheel well, and shoved his tire into the Lexus' face. __"THIS WAS YOU WASN'T IT, KILIC?! YOU LED THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS HERE!" _

_"It was a set-up!" He heard another car yell from the crowd. _

_Vince swore up and down that he had nothing to do with the sudden appearance of police, and grew angry at the thought that they would think he was a traitor. "No! I-I didn't know he would follow me here! I swear to God!" _

_The car that accused him wasn't backing off one bit. He shoved Vince up against the wall. "You little shit! If you snitched on us, I swear-" _

_"HEY! Back off!" Regal interrupted. "If he says he didn't do it, he didn't do it. We need to worry about getting everybody out of here." _

_Everything was a frenzy as all the cars scrambled to escape arrest. Vince followed closely with a group of cars that were being led by Regal. As more cops poured in and actively made arrests, it wasn getting more difficult to find an escape route. Despite dwelling in the subway for years, Regal's sense of direction was snuffed by the anxiety of knowing that this could be his last night of freedom. _

_In any direction the cars looked, there was always the flashing red and blue lights to discourage them from any hope. The group came to a halt when they saw four officers approaching them with weapons raised. Vince turned around but was met with four more guns pointing in his direction as well. They were trapped with nowhere to go. _

_"I'm sorry." Vince said to Regal; tears stinging his eyes. He looked down at Regal's wheels, unable to make eye contact with the car he considered true family. "I never meant for any of this to happen." _

_Regal slumped in defeat as the officers put wheel clamps around his tires. "I know you didn't, kid." Regal gave Vince one last smile before he was hauled off with the rest of the cars that were arrested. _

_Vince felt himself being clamped, and resisted the overbearing urge to bash the officer's hood in. "I promise, I won't let them get away with what they did to you all." Vince said to himself. "I'll make every cop in the world pay for this. All of them." _

* * *

"_Almost there." _Ryan thought to himself as he approached the finish line.

His opponent, a red Audi A4, was not too far behind him and was steadily catching up. The BMW cut to the left, used a back alleyway as a shortcut, and made it back on the street just in time to cross the line before the A4 did.

"Shit." The A4 swore under his breath. "Thought for sure I had you this time." Ryan shook tires and received the one thousand dollars that they had placed as a wager. "I heard around town that you were good, but _damn_."

Ryan bashfully grinned. "Thanks, but I still have a long way to go."

"Pfft. Yeah, right." The Audi sarcastically remarked. "If I were Razor, I'd be packing my bags. He ain't gonna be around much longer with how fast you're building your rep. Anyways, keep up the good work." The A4 put himself into gear to leave, but Ryan stopped him.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something."

The A4 turned back around and shifted his weight in curiosity. "Huh? What's up?"

Ever since Rog refused to give any information on Taz, Ryan couldn't stop thinking about what made that car such a taboo name. He figured he would ask the locals on any info about the ill-famed car.

"Have you heard about a car named Taz?"

"Yeah, of course. Everyone knows about that guy." The Audi's eyes lit up when he realized what Ryan was probably getting at. "Hey, isn't he you're next match?"

Ryan nodded his hood. "I was wondering if you knew anything about him. For some reason, it seems like people don't like to talk about him."

The Audi chuckled. "Of course people don't like to talk about that car, because he's the biggest nut-job that Rockport has ever seen." The two cars began cruising next to each other down the street, and the Audi continued his lesson. "In fact, the only reason why Taz isn't higher on the Blacklist is because he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. No one really knows for sure, but most people think that he has some sort of mental condition."

Ryan let the info that was given to him roll around in his mind a little bit. Taz definitely seemed like an interesting car, but Ryan still didn't have a grasp on what made the car so notorious. "So what makes him so crazy. What's his shtick?"

The Audi laughed and shook his hood. "I still can't believe you don't know. Dude, Taz is the biggest heat score on the Blacklist. He's taken out more cops in this city than any other car in Rockport's history! The closest anyone else has came to his record is this psycho chick named Kamikaze, but even _she_ doesn't have the numbers that Taz has. I almost feel sorry for the cops whenever that guy is around, because all he leaves behind is a trail of blood and twisted metal."

The two approached a stoplight and Ryan took a second to think about what he was told. "Hmm. How does he race?"

"I don't think Taz is much of a racer. The only reason why he's on the Blacklist is because of his history with the Law. That's not to say that he _can't_ race, though. He has some decent mods under his hood and from what I heard, he likes to get physical." The two cars started rolling again, and Ryan looked up to see some rain clouds forming. He felt a nudge on his fender and looked back at the A4. "I gotta go man. Just watch yourself around Rosewood at night. That's when that creep likes to come out and look for 'newbies' to race. See ya around."

Now that Ryan had got confirmation on what kind of car he was dealing with, he felt more prepared for the challenge ahead. To him, not knowing anything about his opponent is like going into a war zone blindfolded. He knew that speed wasn't everything that came to winning a race. It was also knowing the car beside him and executing a plan that would counter their own skills and strategies.

* * *

Just like he was told, Ryan stopped by Rog's warehouse so that he could receive the list of milestones that he would need to complete. The warehouse was empty for the time being, except for the GTO that was parked working on some repairs to a machine. Rog wiped his wheels on a nearby rag, and turned his attention to his guest.

"How the streets treating you today?"

Ryan's face lit up with excitement. "Pretty good actually. I've been making mental marks on the shortest routes around town, and they seem to be working out for me. I'm anticipating corners and timing my turns just right so that I can have the fastest lap time. I like to think of this town as one big track."

Rog chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm. Even though the BMW was a fully grown car, Rog would notice certain times where Ryan was like a little boy in a grown man's body. The BMW's approach to racing reminded Rog on how most cars feel when they first discover street racing; the feeling of freedom and joy unmatched by anything else. Nevertheless, the situation at hand was as serious and intense as it gets, and Rog had some information that may just discourage the vengeful car from proceeding any further. Rog took a bite out of a sandwich, and handed one to Ryan, who gratefully accepted it.

"I'm glad you're getting familiar with the area, because you're gonna be racing in Rosewood for a little while longer than I expected."

Ryan's grin slowly faded away, and was replaced with a look of concern. "What's going on?"

"Alright. Here's the deal, Ryan. Razor's stopped all of his activity in Rosewood and Camden. He's exclusively racing in Downtown, which is where the _real_ action is. In order for you to even catch a glimpse of him, you'll have to knock out all the competition in these first two boroughs before you can race in Downtown. It's just the way rep works down here."

Ryan gritted his teeth and deduced Razor to nothing in his mind; the word "coward" being one of many insults that dwelt inside his conscious. Ryan looked at Rog and confidently nodded his hood. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Rog smiled in relief that Ryan wouldn't back down from the extensive task ahead. "I knew you'd say that. Now come over here." Ryan followed Rog over to a bulletin board that had the list of objectives written under the name "Taz." "Taz put out the challenge as soon as he heard that you were eyeing his spot on the Blacklist. He isn't new to this game, so you're gonna have to prove you're ready to race him. It's the same strategy we used for Sonny. Knock out a few races, rack up your bounty, and your rival will set up the big race for the title."

Ryan took a look at the list. He had to win a total of four races, and accumulate a bounty of 50,000. He wasn't far from either of those goals, and could see himself meeting that quota in just another day. Ryan felt a short vibration under his fender, and took a look at his phone to see what kind of message he received.

_[From: Mia. "Come to my place. I have a surprise for you. ;)"]_

Rog watched in amusement as Ryan's silver hood turned a deep crimson red. "Heh. What's got you all worked up?"

Ryan quickly tucked the phone away and struggled to maintain his composure. "I-It's nothing. J-Just one of my friends checking up on me."

Rog wasn't getting over it that easy. He poked fun at Ryan some more. "Is that friend a girl?"

Ryan quietly nodded his head, looking past Rog. He was wondering whether or not he should tell the Pontiac about how he was feeling towards this particular car. "Yeah, I'll be honest. She's the coolest woman I've ever met. She's been looking out for me ever since I made it into Rockport."

Rog's interest peaked. "...Tell me more about her."

"Well, she was the first car that I raced in Rockport. Let me tell you, Rog, that girl is fast. After my engine locked up, she took me in, got my back on my wheels, and gave me a place to stay. I wouldn't be able to do what I'm doing now if it weren't for her."

"Hmm." Rog simply nodded and looked down in thought. After a few seconds of silence, Rog finally spoke up. "I just got one last question. What's her name?"

"Mia." Her name tingled on his lips and apart of him wished she was here right now.

Rog hummed once again and nodded his hood. "Well, I don't wanna hold you any longer. Go hook up with your girl. You know where I'll be if you need me."

Ryan smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Rog. In a couple of days, I'll be the new number fourteen on the Blacklist. Count on it."

* * *

Ryan stared at the garage door to Mia's house, letting the sun cast its final rays of the evening over him. He didn't really know what to think or expect from the woman when he enters her abode. "_What does 'surprise' mean?"_ That was the question that hadn't ceased rolling around in his head. Of course, his mind would travel to more risque ideas of what she may have in mind, but he fought to keep his thoughts pure, and his heart from throbbing out of his frame. Truth be told, Ryan's nerves were just wrecked from nervousness, fear of the unknown, and excitement for the opportunity to see the car he had grown feelings for so quickly. A startling vibration brought Ryan from the ether of his mind. He flipped out his phone and took a look at the message on the screen.

_[From: Mia. "Are you just gonna sit there, or are you coming in? The door is unlocked."]_

The sharp sword of embarrassment ruthlessly cut into Ryan, ripping him apart from the inside out. He muttered an explicative and opened the door into her house. Taking a look around, Mia had an average two-story house that looked like it had been lived in for quite some time. He took a look around the living room, scanning for any possible family pictures and the like, but everything was bare bones for the most part. Even the furniture choices were minimal and were just enough for one car to get by for a while. Ryan figured that Mia was the type that didn't stay in one place for an extended period of time.

Ryan looked out of the open window of the living room, and into the sun that painted the inside of the residence with swatches of red, orange, and pink; giving the house a warm and welcoming vibe. He heard the soft purr of Mia's rotary engine coming from the second floor, followed by her rolling down the ramp that led upstairs. The sun seemed to have abandoned its original canvas, and turned its attention to the contours of Mia's fiberglass body, which was lovely illuminated by the evening glow.

"You are such a creep!" Mia joked. "Why are you always spaced out with that weird look on your face?"

The BMW shook his hood to bring himself back to focus, and instead of providing her with an answer, he changed the subject. "How'd you know I was outside?"

Mia laughed at her friend's question. "We live in Rosewood, Ryan. Gotta keep our eyes on our surroundings. I have cameras put up so that I can see if there's anything going on outside."

"I thought Rosewood was supposed to be the better part of Rockport?"

Mia shook her hood. "That's just a stupid stigma attached to the name of this town. At the end of the day, whether you're in Downtown, Camden, or Rosewood, it's all still Rockport. And _that_ means anything can happen at anytime." Ryan followed Mia as she made her way into the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"No thanks. Just came from my buddy's place and we had a couple of sandwiches."

"You talking about the guy you mentioned before? Rog?"

"Yeah."

"How's he treatin' you?"

Ryan chuckled. "Are you kidding me? He's been fantastic. He's been giving me a ton of advice on how to tackle the Blacklist. He even helped me out with Sonny, and now he's helping me with Taz. Between you and him, I couldn't have asked for a better team."

"Whoa, slow your roll. I wouldn't say we're a team. I've never even heard of the guy until you mentioned him. That's why I was asking you about him, so I can make sure he isn't some troll that's gonna slow you down."

Ryan shook his hood and sank down on his back wheels. "You don't need to worry about him. Matter of fact, I'd like it if you guys could meet. The whole 'team' thing doesn't sound like a bad idea to me. Especially since both of you are helping me with the same goal."

Mia simply hummed at the thought, and reached in the pantry to grab some octane chips. "You ready for Taz?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. I heard the guy is literally insane, so I might not even make it back from the race." Ryan saw an opportunity for a joke, and went for it. "Would you miss me if I wound up in a ditch somewhere?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Miss you? I don't even _know_ you that well."

Even though the BMW recognized that she was joking with him, the reality still hit him when he thought about what she said. The fact of the matter was that they _didn't_ know each other at all. So why was Ryan so worked up over her? He masked the hurt within him and cursed himself for daring to step out of his shell in the first place. "You… uh, said you had a… _surprise_ for me?"

Mia looked at him from the corner of her eye; noting the awkward emphasis he put into his sentence, followed by his nervous body language. She took a bite out of a chip and turned around. "Yeah… I almost forgot. Wait here."

He watched her make her way upstairs. She came back down and into the kitchen with something tucked under her fender. She pulled the object out and gave it to Ryan, which he gave a thorough look over. It was a strange metallic device that had multiple antennas protruding from the side of it. She saw the confusion on his face and decided to set him straight.

"It's a transmitter." She rolled up to him and used her tire to point out the different aspects of the device. "This little baby will come in handy as you start to get more attention from the cops. You can listen in on their conversations, and use it to predict their strategy in a pursuit. It can also detect when a cop is nearby in an area."

Ryan nodded and muttered an unenthusiastic, "Oh."

"You're welcome." Mia said with sass prominent in her tone. "Were you expecting something else?"

Ryan bashfully chuckled and his hood turned almost as red as Mia's paint. "No, no. I was… just…" His voice trailed off into silence as he saw her unamused expression. Desperate to wiggle out of the painfully awkward situation, he quickly thanked her for the gift. "Some car I raced with before had one of these. I always wondered where to get one, but you came through for me. Thanks Mia. I appreciate it."

She continued to glare at him, with a few ideas of where the BMW's headspace was. He tried another smile, but it somehow came out even more sheepish than the last one. "You boys are all the same."

He shook his hood and turned away, not willing to proceed with the situation any further. "That's not true." He said under his breath. A ringtone interrupted the awkward atmosphere, and Mia made a signal that it was a call she had to take. "Oh, thank God," he mumbled to himself as she left the room.

A few minutes later, Mia returned to the kitchen, informing Ryan that he had to leave. "I'm kicking you out. Got some business to take care of."

Ryan nodded in full regard for her privacy, and began making his way towards the back of the house. She followed him to the garage door and he turned around to say goodbye. "I'm gonna go and do one more race before it gets too late. All I need is another win to meet Taz's quota."

"Good luck." She flatly said.

He turned around to leave but paused to mention one last thing. "Hey, by the way, thanks for the transmitter. I really appreciate it."

"You already said that earlier."

"Yeah, I know. I just want you to know that I mean what I say."

She nodded, not willing to utter anything else.

"O-Okay. See you." He said, though, she couldn't hear him very well. He drove off from the premises and she closed the door behind her.

* * *

_[8:46am] [April 18th, 1993]_

_The Land Cruiser drove up to the jail cell, and glared at his son. "Get him outta there." He told the warden next to him. _

_The following day in the Kilic household was quiet. The two men had not spoken any words to each other. However, that changed after something snapped inside Vince's brain. A bridge inside his mind had been beaten and battered so much, that it finally collapsed. He sat parked in the middle of the living room waiting for his father to come home for the night. The memories from the previous night flashed in his mind nonstop. He witnessed his only family be taken away from his eyes. When they were taken away, so was his sanity. _

_"I promise I won't let them get away with this." He preached to himself. "Doesn't matter if I have to crush every cop in the whole damn world. I'll make sure they won't stop us." _

_Vince listened as the lock to the front door was turned. The door opened and in came the burly Land Cruiser, who closed the door behind him. He looked up to his son parked in the middle of the living room with a wicked look on his face. Vince opened his mouth to speak. _

_"What's gonna happen to them?" His voice was low and hoarse, and had a dialect to it that his father had never heard from his child before. _

_"Excuse me?" _

_The Lexus spoke up, his voice booming throughout the living room. "You know who I'm talking about! What are they gonna do to them?!" _

_"To who? Those fugitives that you hang around with? Oh, trust me son. They're getting hauled to a federal prison as we speak." The father rolled away from the front door and towered over Vince. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be joining them. So I suggest you close your mouth, and start showing some respect." _

_Vince slowly reversed away from his father, all the way into the back of the living room. Though, It wasn't because he was scared. Instead, it was all apart of his plan. It was then that the dad had noticed a makeshift ramp that had been built in the back of the room. He looked back towards his son and noticed an even further change in demeanor. _

_"I swore to my brothers that I would make every cop I come across eat dirt. I would make them pay for all the bullshit they put street racers. through..." A wicked grin swept across Vince's bumper. "...Starting with you." _

_Vince shot forward and used the makeshift ramp to launch himself into the air. The Land Cruiser was frozen in shock as he watched his son descend from the air; seemingly in slow motion. Vince tensed his chassis, and with all his might, crashed down onto his father's roof with the side of his fender. The Lexus rolled onto the ground and looked back up to see what damage he had done. His father was crying out in pain, and the way his body remained arched let Vince knew that he had paralyzed his own parent. Screams filled the house until Vince had enough. _

_"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" _

_With one savage haymaker to the Toyota's front bumper, Vince ended the cries of pain from his father. The Land Cruiser lay motionless on the ground, injured from a broken spine, broken jaw, and a broken heart. Everything was silent, except for the inner chuckles that came from within Vince Kilic.  
_

* * *

Ryan was on his usual way home under the night sky. His last race that took place a minute ago was nothing short of a cake walk. Combined with recent speed camera footage showing him speeding over 160mph, which increased his bounty to 55,000, Ryan was more than ready for his next rival challenge. He turned onto the street that would eventually lead him to his safehouse, but was stopped when he noticed a pair of idle headlights on the wrong side of the road. The glare from the pair of lights were too bright for him to tell who they belonged to, but it didn't matter since they slowly began getting closer.

As the proximity between the mysterious car and Ryan got smaller, the BMW would be lying if he said he wasn't put on edge. He readied his engine and transmission to be thrown into sudden speed just in case a getaway was necessary. The stranger pulled up directly next to Ryan, who was finally able to make out a few significant details that belonged to the car. He was a gold Lexus IS300 with red tear vinyls on his panels, which gave the appearance of his side being torn into. To add to the off-putting artwork, he had skulls decked throughout his body, and red colored wheels complemented the tampos of his livery. To top it all off, he had a body kit installed, a roof scoop, and an aggressively angled spoiler.

"You're the new guy…" Taz said in a low, grotesque voice. "...The one who's here to take my place?"

Taz finally looked at Ryan, expecting an answer from him. Ryan remained silent, however, he never broke eye contact with the Lexus; not daring to show his rival even a hint of weakness. Taz looked forward again, and let a faint chuckle escape his lips.

"Hickley Field. Tomorrow. Three o'clock in the afternoon. Make the race worth my time." Taz put himself into low gear, and prepared to leave. Ryan's voice caught him off guard.

"I'm just doing what I have to do. And you happen to be in my way. Don't take it personally."

Even with the Lexus facing away from him, Ryan could still see the front of Taz's bumper curve up, indicating his wicked smile. "Just promise you'll do the same for me after I leave you as a sad heap of ashes."

* * *

Groups of cars Sat underneath a highway in anticipation of the recently announced race between Taz and Ryan. The groups were split in two: those who wanted Taz gone from the streets of Rosewood, and those who preferred for Ryan to meet that fate instead.

"Here he comes." Said one car that noticed the BMW approaching them.

Ryan positioned himself in front of the spray painted start line. The crowd remained relatively quiet and low murmurs were the only voices that could be heard. Ryan still hadn't really gained the trust of most of the locals, and Taz wasn't liked by anyone. It would definitely make for an interesting race. Speaking of Taz, the Lexus appeared and parked himself next to his challenger; the sound of sirens fading in the distance, which indicated he had just finished his playtime with law enforcement.

"Alright, we're gonna make this quick before the five-o comes." The mediator said. The race route was uploaded to Ryan's navigation system, and he gave a rev signifying he was ready to race. The crowd began the countdown.

"THREE! TWO! ONE! GO!"

The two cars sped off at the second the last number was called out. The roar of Taz's 2JZ engine was like a jackhammer to Ryan's ear. Both cars were bumper to bumper for the first stretch of the race, and breathing room finally came when the first exit approached. Ryan took the curve with no problem, and noticed a significant dropback from his opponent. He looked in his rearview to see Taz at least five seconds behind him and making little effort to make up for lost time. Ryan ignored the odd behavior and focused back on the road; dead set on winning the race at all costs. However, the IS300 knew exactly what his strategy was. A crooked grin was plastered on his golden face as he studied the BMW's every movement with frightening precision.

He took notes on how Ryan moved his body into the corners, how the timing of his gears was affected by such movement, and even listened closely to the revs of his engine. Taz was mapping out Ryan's performance levels as if he was a living dynamometer, and took action to use the data against his opponent. Ryan prepared to tackle another corner, but was caught off guard when he heard the 2JZ engine roaring to life behind him.

Not quick enough to look in his rearview, Ryan felt a sudden jolt to his body, followed by a stinging pain in his right rear fender. The cheap shot from Taz knocked Ryan out of his line of trajectory, and the BMW found himself scraping against the wall.

"HA HA!"

Taz's laughter faded away the further he increased the gap from Ryan, who was still struggling from removing himself from what seemed like a vacuum on the side of the wall. The M3 GTR snapped himself away from the concrete, back onto the road, and began his pursuit for the golden blur. He took a quick look at the route on his navigation system, and realized he was already halfway through the race. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his nerves and encouraged himself. "_Focus... Focus... Focus…"_ He was tempted to activate his nitrous, but his inner conscious discouraged him against the action. "_Not yet." _Taz looked in his rearview and saw Ryan rounding a left turn that he himself had already taken a few seconds ago.

Both cars were going well over 140mph down a narrow two-lane stretch. Bumper to bumper once again, the two men could see the red smoke in the distance, signifying that the end of the race was near. However, there was something else up ahead that piqued the interest of both racers. An oblivious pedestrian was in Taz's lane, and cruising about in unawareness to the heated competition in front of him. The man looked up to see two cars rapidly approaching, and froze in shock when he didn't know what to do.

There was no going right or left. Either somebody was going to crash, or the racers would stop. The innocent car prayed that the latter would happen, and did the only thing he felt capable of in the situation: honk his horn as loud as his pipes would allow him. Ryan hesitated for a brief second, but lowered himself to the ground deciding that he couldn't let the unfortunate circumstance play a factor in his loss. If he allowed room for Taz to transition into his lane for the sake of the bystander, it could mean that his shot at Razor was over.

Instead, the BMW used his nitrous to increase his speed in hopes that Taz would get behind him. Ryan sped ahead but was shocked to see that Taz didn't move an inch, even though he could avoid colliding with the man if he moved behind Ryan. Dangerously close to collision, the Lexus tensed his chassis, and rammed head on with the innocent bystander. Ryan heard a tank-churning crunch of metal behind him, and looked in his rearview to see the bystander suspended high up in the air from the hit.

Everything appeared to be happening in slow motion. Ryan crossed the finish line first and he, as well as the group of cars that spectated the race, immediately turned to watch as the pedestrian landed on the ground in an upside-down heap of smoke. All of their jaws were nearly on the ground as they watched Taz slowly cross the finish line for second place. Unphased from the hit, Taz shook his wheels loose and acted as if nothing happened.

"So, let's get on with the last race." The Lexus casually said.

As Ryan followed the others to the next location, he knew what he was stepping into with this psychotic car. "_He's more dangerous than I thought… but I WON'T let him stop me. Get ready Vince Kilic. You're mine." _

Taz knew very well what it would mean for him if he lost to Ryan. He loved the fear he invoked in both the racers and cops that he came across. As a product from his troubled past and sickening motives, he felt that this defeat would be a disgrace to his paved path of destruction. To Vince, the title "Blacklist member" was proof that everything he did as a street racer _meant_ something. There was no way he was going to let some outsider steal that pride away from him.

"THREE!"

Ryan grounded his back wheels, ready to launch himself forward as fast as he could.

"TWO!"

Taz loosened his suspension, anticipating a rigorous battle to the finish line.

"ONE!"

Both cars turned to look at each other through the corner of their eyes; nothing but fierce determination in Ryan's, and deranged excitement in Taz's.

"GO!"

The BMW left the Lexus in a cloud of smoke as the race began, however, the golden competitor was not far behind. The race route was a fairly short sprint through the town area, which meant that both cars needed to give everything they had with no slowing down whatsoever. Ryan barely tapped his brakes as he whipped around corners and danced through crowds of traffic. When he saw a fairly long straight approaching, he didn't hesitate to purge every bit of nitrous oxide from his system, and everything became an unrecognizable blur from the sudden velocity.

The BMW looked in his rearview and noticed something that put him on edge. The Lexus was nowhere in sight. Ryan frantically searched his mirrors for any clues of gold and red, but hadn't come up with anything. "_Must've crashed."_ He mused to himself, however, he never let his hopes get up and he remained cautious. Little did Ryan know that Taz had it all planned out. Ryan made it past the second to last turn of the race, and could've sworn he heard that 2JZ engine around. He sped down the narrow street and sure enough, saw the dreaded skull vinyls that belonged none other to Taz.

Taz was on the other side of the road, which was closed off by a long fence. Ryan figured it was some sort of shortcut, but when he looked ahead to see what the Lexus was speeding toward, a lump grew in his throat. Taz was hauling bumper straight for a decommissioned satellite tower that stood on the end of the road. It didn't take long for Ryan to figure out his plan. Either Ryan would forfeit the race by slamming on his brakes, or he could speed ahead and risk getting crushed by a large rusty contraption.

"HA! HA! HA!"

Taz's twisted laughter bounced against the brick walls of the alleyway. A split second of thought was all the M3 GTR needed, and he concluded that he wouldn't be stopped by _anything_ at this point. Even if it seemed impossible, if he had to, he would resort to focusing all his strength on going _through_ the tower if that's what it took to beat Taz. Ryan shifted gears, and without the aid of nitrous, pushed forward as fast as he could. Not long after, he heard the anticipated clang of metal, followed by the sight of the tower leaning more dangerously close to the right by every millisecond.

Closer and closer the tower came to colliding with the ground, and the shrieks of metal being bent didn't help to ease Ryan's nerves. Nevertheless, the BMW never lost his momentum, and he gave one final warcry before he risked his life for victory.

"GRAAAGHH!"

With the tower just a few feet off of the ground, Ryan lowered himself as far as he could go, and drifted underneath the collapsed tower. The force of wind gushing up from the collision nearly blew him off course, but other than that, Ryan made it out unscathed. He connected the drift he used to escape into the final turn of the race. Taz looked in his mirror and saw the BMW smoothly sliding out from alleyway; his blood boiling almost as hot as the temperature of his engine. In mere seconds, the BMW was side by side with the Lexus with no signs of slowing down.

"FINE! YOU WANNA GO?! LET'S GO!" Taz shouted at the top of his lungs.

He veered to his left, and then back to his right to ram his side against Ryan. Ryan struggled to maintain his traction from the brutal hit, but had little time to think since his opponent was getting ready to dish out another blow. Taz reeled again once more and slammed his front fender into the Ryan's wheel well, attempting to at least break a ball joint. The BMW stuck to the road like primer on metal, not willing to give Taz an inch, especially since the finish line was visible up ahead.

The two competitors weaved in and out of traffic, and Taz was desperately looking for another opportunity to collide with Ryan. He knew he didn't stand a chance against that race-spec car unless he literally fought for the win. Besides the obnoxious beeping of horns, Taz's cursing filled the air between them. The Lexus saw one last opening for a hit, but Ryan was prepared for it this time.

Taz threw himself to the right, but Ryan put on his brakes with just enough pressure for Taz to miss. Ryan snapped himself back into fifth gear, and hit Taz with a sideswipe of his own. The latter car had no idea the hit was coming, and struggled to maintain his traction in the middle of the intersection. He collided with a sign post, and that was the final deduction to any remaining control that he had. Taz spun out in front of all the cars to the right of the intersection, and opened his eyes to see himself heading straight for a moving eighteen-wheeler...

There was no time for apologies. No time to correct mistakes. No time for regret. There was only time to accept consequences and as Taz closed his eyes shut, he did just that. The sound of metal crunching against metal filled the tense air and when all the spectators, both street racer and pedestrian, opened their eyes, they witnessed Taz and the eighteen-wheeler barely conscious with smoke rising from their hoods.

Ryan had indeed heard the disturbing sounds from the collision, but never looked back to see for himself. He already knew exactly what Taz's fate would be when he lost control. There was no need to rub salt in the wound, especially since Ryan despised dirty racing. However, when push came to shove, Ryan never let anyone treat him like a floor mat. The BMW crossed the finish line, but never stopped to look back at the scene. Soon after, spectators began following Ryan's lead after sirens were heard.

"COPS! COPS!"

In a panic, the already hectic scene in the middle of Rosewood, was turned into an "every car for himself" situation. That day, everyone knew that the race between Ryan and Taz would be one to remember. However, no one expected what was witnessed at those final moments of the race.

* * *

"_Just promise me that you won't let this city change you." _Ryan was reminded of Rog's words as he looked in the mirror. He noticed the scars and paint chips that Taz had gifted him earlier. He mused that he would have the buffer machine return him to his clean look sometime tomorrow. Even though the scratches on his body stood out to the way he usually looked, Ryan searched for anything in his facial expression that could give him a clue to the emotions in his heart.

The race had long been over. It was night time, most cars had escaped the cops by now, and Taz was either sitting in a hospital or prison cell. But for some reason, Ryan couldn't shake the feeling like he was still moving. Like Taz was still right next to him. Trying to kill him. Trying to prevent him from winning the race by any means necessary. Sure, he had raced against guys who loved to trade paint in the past, but Taz was something else.

Taz was a sharp eye opener to exactly what Ryan would be getting into if he still chose to pursue the Blacklist. Ryan sighed and ran some water of his hood in an effort to calm himself down. "_Just promise me that you won't let this city change you."_ It wasn't like Ryan to lose his cool like he did earlier. He felt that he should've never pushed Taz in the first place. Not because it gave him a cheap victory, but because it wasn't who _he_ was.

Even though he was by no means a pushover, Ryan would've loved to have found a way to win the race without nearly turning Vince Kilic into what was professed for Ryan himself: "a sad heap of ashes."

Ryan turned off the light to the bathroom and headed back into the main room of his safehouse. He turned on the light beside his nightstand, which dimly illuminated the concrete wall that had the Blacklist written on it. The BMW glared at the list until he rolled over and picked up the piece of chalk on the ground. He raised the chalk to the wall and slowly crossed out Taz's name. The eerie sound of chalk scraping against the rugged surface filled the once quiet safehouse, until it stopped once the object dropped to the floor.

"_Just promise me that you won't let this city change you."_ Ryan replied to the question that plagued his mind.

"I'm still the same person, just robbed of my dignity." He took his brown eyes and looked up at Razor's name that was on the very top of the list. "Razor… I'm coming for you. And you _better_ be ready."


End file.
